


Soundtrack

by The1DLads



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Baker Harry, Drama, F/M, Firefighters, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Other, Student Harry, Student Niall, Teacher Louis, Teacher Zayn, University Student Harry, University Student Niall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 06:04:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 32,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1887699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The1DLads/pseuds/The1DLads
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 Guys. 3 Albums. 1 Story.</p><p>What if in some alternate reality the members of One Direction lived lives determined by the words of their own songs?</p><p>Follow university roommates Harry and Niall, school teachers Zayn and Louis, and firefighter Liam as they maneuver through the struggles and joys of love, loss, and redemption in Soundtrack, a fanfiction inspired directly by the songs of One Direction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What Makes You Beautiful

 

           “Dad! Dad look!” a tiny voice chirped excitedly, a football bouncing haphazardly on two equally tiny knees.

           “Ah, Charlie, look at you go— now give your ol’ dad a turn, eh? Kick it to me, bub.” Louis’ voice called back, his staple sass showing even then. Charlie giggled and gave the ball his best boot, sending the white and black sphere tumbling across the courtyard green. Louis received it and skilfully chipped it up on his own knees, volleying back and forth a few times before piping up again.

           “You ready?” He asked, signaling his son to run down the stretch of the garden and prepare for another pass.

           “Ready! Ready!!” Charlie exclaimed and split down the grass as fast as his little legs would take him. Louis smiled before sending the ball sailing evenly towards him. The boy met the leather with his forehead and bumped it down to his feet, bumbling along happily as Louis clapped in admiration. Only six and already showing the same love for the sport that his father did.

           Louis’ mind wandered as he took in the sight of his son attempting to dribble down the length of the sidewalk. What a perfect face— a perfect combination of his mum’s beautiful eyes and his dad’s mischievous grin, hair thick like his mom’s and brown like his dad’s, and a nose just like his grandfather. A marriage of two, the beautiful product of love and laughter and one perfect summer night. He’d always thought he’d never see anything more beautiful and perfect than his wife, but at first sight of Charlie he’d known he was wrong—so very wrong. To be fair, he had been extremely wary of the whole fatherhood thing—what did someone like him have to offer? But, Charlie changed all of that. Charlie brought more love and laughter than Louis or his wife could have ever imagined, and, in his innocence, without even realizing it. And somehow that made him all the more beautiful.

           At least, that’s what it had felt like at first. Louis’ brow furrowed. How exactly had things turned out the way they did? At no fault of Charlie, he knew that much. But it seemed so strange and unnatural that even with the added joy of Charlie, he and his wife somehow drifted apart. Worse than that, really. Somehow they both turned from love and laughter to annoyance and misunderstanding and frustration. At the end, nearly every conversation had ended in spat words, clenched teeth, and hurt eyes. Just the thought of it made his stomach turn and his eyes narrow a bit, like somewhere balled up inside of him was a growing mass of anger and bitterness slowly twisting itself around his heart like a poison ivy on a tree. And because of that, amidst the more obvious things, both he and his wife had decided it was better for Charlie if it all ended as soon as possible—he didn’t deserve to have such negativity and hostility surrounding him at such a young age. Maybe they were just scared, maybe they really did have as many problems as they claimed to their lawyers. Either way, it was all too new for Louis to be anywhere near ready to move on. In fact, in many ways he only felt it getting worse. Charlie was his only respite amidst a world of hurt.

           The boy turned and ran back towards his father. As Louis looked into his small face it was as if he could see every joy and every hurt etched onto his innocent frame. Every Christmas morning, every family holiday to the beach, every angry glare, every family dinner ruined. And somewhere in the corner of his sparkling eye, the image of his mother—before all the hurt, when everything was warm and right.

           Louis forced a grin and knelt as his son bounded into his arms. “Good job, bub.” He encouraged the squirming child as he wrapped his arms around him.

           “One day I’ll be as good as you, dad. Just wait.” Charlie squeaked through his fidgets.

           “Ohh I don’t know about that.” Louis teased and gave him a tickle.

           “Yes I will! Cause you’ll teach me!” Charlie laughed and tried to pull away from the pokes at his side. “Dad!!”

           Louis laughed along with him before easing off and letting him stand up straight again.

           “And then I can play on your team, right? How old do I have to be again?” Charlie questioned as Louis straightened himself and draped an arm over Charlie’s shoulder.

           “Actually, how would you feel if I coached your team this year, bub?”

           “Really, dad? Really?? That would be AWESOME!” Charlie jumped up and down a little in his excitement.

           “Well good, because I already talked to Mrs. Redford about it. I’ve switched from the middle school team so I can spend more time with my favorite six year old. …your friend Max.”

           “DAD.” Charlie groaned, used to his father’s silly quips. Louis giggled with his son and began leading him towards the school door and down the hallway. Louis spent every recess he could playing with Charlie as his time with him was pretty much limited to weekends, thanks to his ex-wife’s clever lawyer. He hoped coaching Charlie’s football team would allow them more precious time together, even if there were fifteen other kids there too. He took all the time he could get with him because Charlie really was all that was left of his love and laughter.

           “I’ll see you in two days then, okay?” Louis bent down to look in Charlie’s eyes.

           “Okay, dad. See you this weekend. I love you.” He replied, a mature resolve in his eyes that Louis wished Charlie wouldn’t have had to learn for a long time. And knowing he had caused it hurt maybe even more than realizing it was there in the first place.

           “I love you too, bub.” He half-whispered and tucked him into a hug before sending him through the door to his classroom. “Don’t forget to bring your cleats this weekend!”

           “I won’t!” Charlie’s face half-turned as he hunched his backpack further up his spine and smiled back towards his dad. Louis raised a solitary hand in some sort of wave to accompany his returning smile, one he knew didn’t make it to his eyes. Maybe his relationship with his wife had shattered, but his love for Charlie never would.

           “Hey man, how are you?”

           Louis’ thoughts were interrupted as he turned around to see one of his new-found friends walk up—a local firefighter who frequently came to the school to give fire safety presentations in his spare time. Louis’ drama classes particularly loved the man’s fun personality and impressive list of achievements.

           “Liam—good to see you, mate.” Louis smiled back and shook his hand. “Thanks for coming out today—the kids are really excited to see you.” And they were—everyone was, really. Liam was the kind of guy everyone loved—the kind of guy Louis could see himself getting close to. Unlike many of his friends from before the divorce, Liam was easy to be around— good for a drink and a hearty laugh and an interesting story. They’d been out together a few times before and Louis was pleased with how their friendship was progressing. Ever since he and his wife had split up he’d lost contact with all of his old friends and had reservations about letting anyone get close to him, but with Liam he finally felt like he could have a friend again. And with the way his mind was beginning to spin out of control, he knew he needed it.


	2. Gotta Be You

           “Where are you off to?” Harry peered up from his textbook, curious at his roommates sudden, feverish attempts to get out the door—haphazardly reaching for his keys and shoving shoes on as he aggravatingly hopped across the small dorm room.

           “I finally convinced her to talk.” Niall responded tersely.

           “Who, Bre?”

           “Who else do ya think?”

           “I dunno. You sure it’s a good idea to re-open that wound?” Harry asked absentmindedly as his eyes drifted back to the text.

           “It’s only been two weeks. The wound never closed.” Niall muttered in an annoyed tone. He wasn’t sure if Harry had heard the last part, but he didn’t really care. He knew first hand just how bad it was, and while Niall knew he meant well in his words, his timing wasn’t always perfect. Without another comment, Niall let the door close between them and set off down the hall.

           His trek across the darkened campus gave him time to think, which, considering his state of emotional health, probably wasn’t extremely helpful. His mind went in circles, the events of the past few weeks playing out in his head again and again, just like they had for days. Still he couldn’t understand. To him, things had seemed fine-- great, even. Their usual dates to school games were as fun as ever, he thought. Just three weeks ago they had gone to a rival game together and had laughed so hard he thought he might lose his nachos. For a moment, he almost smiled at the memory, but his brain attacked him again. Maybe she’d grown tired of going to the games, maybe she was tired of all crowds and yelling and beer. Maybe she thought his laugh was annoying, or maybe she was suddenly bored of football. But, surely the movies and the coffee shops and, oh, the trips to the beach-- those had been good too, hadn’t they? Could she just have been tired of all of that? Maybe if he’d just promise to switch up their outings, maybe then she’d be okay.

           Or maybe she was just stressed with school. He tried to be as supportive as he could, but it was hard when she seemed to disappear behind her mounds of homework. He was busy too, but he tried to at least text her when he knew she was staying in to work on essays. And she did seem to have so many to write these days. It seemed nearly every weekend recently she’d have to cancel on their plans to work on homework. So maybe that was it-- maybe she was just so busy and tired and stressed with school that she wasn’t thinking correctly. Maybe he could just calm her down and reassure her that it’d be okay, that’d he’d always be there and she’d get through the semester one way or another. Because he knew she would, she always did. Yeah, maybe that was it…

           His mind was at that anxious peace for only a moment before it kicked into gear again.

           No-- it must be him. It must have been something he did. But what? What in the world could he have possibly done that would incur such a quick change of heart? He knew he’d done plenty of stupid, little things, but there must have been something else. _Something._ His head throbbed just thinking about it, as it had every day since she’d said the final word. If he had done something, he knew his ignorance of it made it even worse. He had been a complete idiot without even realizing it, and because of that he probably deserved every second of what he was getting. It was humiliating and angering and deeply saddening all at the same time. If only he could go back and fix it.. whatever _it_ was.

           But maybe even worse than that was looking back and realizing more and more just how wonderful she had been. For every stupid thing he wished he could change about his end of the relationship, there were a thousand things he hoped would never change about her. She was everything he’d always wanted and everything he’d always want. He could never imagine a time in which he wouldn’t find her the most perfect individual on the face of the planet and couldn’t think of one solitary thing that made him at least a little bit relieved that they weren’t together anymore. If he was going to be with anyone, it’d have to be her. She was it. She was the one.

           Finally he reached the local bakery and stepped inside, eyes scanning across heads bowed over textbooks and dim laptop screens. The smell of coffee and tea was strong, and while usually it was a welcome scent, that night it only helped in turning his stomach over again, anxiety replacing any sense of hunger.

           There, across the backpack-filled tables, he spotted her. Her eyes, unaware of his recent entry, flickered down to her coffee cup as a finger traced around the lid. A sigh fell over her shoulders as she laid her hand to rest on the table again. _Perfect. She’s perfect._ Even in her obvious uneasiness, he believed it with all his heart. And try as he might, he couldn’t force his mind to get off of that one fact. In that moment, all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and spend a lifetime proving to her that they were meant to be together. Surely he could mend whatever was broken. If she’d just listen, if she’d just tell him why... he’d do whatever it took to make it work because he honestly couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. Ever.

           But then at the same time, when he thought about walking to her table his legs felt like stone, and when considered what might happen it took everything within him not to run out the door and never look back. What if she still said no? What if she broke his heart—again? It was nearly intolerable the first time and he wasn’t sure he could bear doing it all over. Maybe she had been right, maybe it was better for them to not see each other at all anymore. Just as he’d almost resolved to slip away unnoticed, her sweet voice popped up over the crowded café.

           “Niall—over here.” She nodded and waved a hand. He half-smiled in her direction and painfully made his way over.

           “Hey, Niall, I’m not really sure this is a good id—” she started, but Niall quickly silenced her as he rushed into the chair opposite her.

           “Babe, just hear me out, please.” He shook his head, eyes probably more pleading than he intended.

           She sighed and looked down for a moment, clearly toying with whether or not she should listen. Finally she looked up again. “Alright. But really, Ni, I don’t know if this is the best idea.”

           He nodded gratefully and gave his own resolute sigh. He was going to make it through the next fifteen minutes even if it killed him.

           “Listen, babe, I know I probably screwed a bunch of things up, but I.. I don’t know how to do this without you. You’re perfect for me, you’re all I’ve ever wanted. Your laugh makes me laugh on my worst days, your eyes know just how to get inside my head and make me spill everything I’ve been tryin’a hide for too long. You’ve kept me going through lotsa tough stuff and, like, I don’t know—I just don’t know what I’d do without ya. You’re all I have.”

           “Niall—”

           “And I can change! Whatever I did, I’m so sorry, I just want things to go back to how they were. I’ll be more supportive or less clingy or more funny or whatever it is, I’ll do it. Babe, please, just tell me what I did wrong and I swear I’ll fix it.”

           Her eyes fell again and her fingers went back to fiddling with the lid to her coffee.

           “Niall, you didn’t do anything wrong. I.. it’s not…” She began, sighing again. “It’s not that you necessarily did anything particularly wrong. I just..” Her voice trailed as her eyes drifted to the door of the shop.

           “You just?” He prompted.

           “I don’t know, Ni. I don’t know.” She shook her head, clearly guarding herself-- holding something back, even.

           “Just tell me why. I need to know why, I need to know.” He pleaded. “Babe, what we had.. it was perfect.” His voice failed him as his head shook and he worked to make eye contact with her drooping face. “What happened?”

           She remained silent, a flicker of guilt playing on her face.

           “Bre, babe.. please. Talk to me.. all I want.. all I want to know is..” Niall worked to keep his voice steady and his tears inside, but he knew he was failing. “Why?”

           She pondered for a moment, her thumb still circling the rim of her cup, giving Niall enough time to imagine a thousand different answers that were everything his ears didn’t want to hear, and only one answer they did. And when she looked up at him again, he knew what she’d say before she even spoke.

           “Bre…”


	3. One Thing

           “Harry, stop staring and help me with this cart.” The older woman endearingly chided. Harry’s cheeks warmed ever so slightly as his mind was brought back to reality.

           “Oh, sorry, sure thing, love.” He mumbled and took the other end of the cart of fresh pastries ready for the oven, a little laugh tucked into his cheek.

           “You’ve been eyeing that girl for weeks. When you going to talk to her?” The woman grinned at him, her motherly affection for him showing. She seemed to know he needed some straightening out and warm soup every now and then, being so far away from home and all that.

           “Barbara!” He exclaimed, pretending to be shocked, but his face couldn’t escape the cheesy grin that followed.

           “Well go on then.” Her eyes twinkled knowingly.

           “Barbara..” Harry protested in a whine, thinking of his awkward rambles and cheesy pick-up lines and general lack of suavity.

           “Go on!” She insisted and reached to pinch his bum. He let out a good-hearted yelp as he hopped out of her reach, giggles from both filling the silence behind the counter.

           A man approached the register and Harry moved to ring him up. His eyes wandered a bit as he waited on the customer, searching to see if the girl was still there. If she followed her pattern from the last few weeks, she’d stay until half five before packing up her textbooks and handing in her ceramic mug.

           “That’ll be two pounds fifty.” He nodded towards the man, though his eyes kept searching. Ah, there she was. Moved tables to be in the sun, no doubt. He rather liked the way the sunbeams flicked off her dark hair. It did look quite cozy in that corner, so cozy he could almost imagine her wrapped up in a big blanket reading some sort of whimsical literature, you know, like Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland or The Hobbit or even—

           “Two pound fifty, then?” The man raised his eyebrows and cleared his throat.

           “Oh, sorry, yes. Thank you.” Harry shook his head, allowing his mind to reshuffle and focus on retrieving the man’s receipt. “Have a great day.” He mumbled as the man turned on his heels to leave.

           Barbara was right, if he was going to keep ogling over this girl, he at least needed to talk to her— learn her name or what it was she was studying so fervently or something. He was quite curious, after all. He smiled at the way she tucked her hair behind her ear and intently scribbled on her notepad. He wondered what her major might be—nursing, perhaps? No, she didn’t look much like a nurse. Maybe she was a tennis player. Or.. an anthropology student? Ah, he was just terrible at reading people. Not that it really mattered what she did—there was just something about her that made him weak at the knees. Yeah, she was beautiful, even in her late-afternoon fatigue. But there was something else too. Was it her gentle smile? Her love of café lattes? Or maybe the way her knee jiggled nervously any time she received a text. He sighed. All stupid ideas, he knew. He just couldn’t pinpoint what exactly that one thing about her was…

           “Harry!” Barbara chided and took the coffee cup out of his hands that had been dangling there absentmindedly. “Will ya just go talk to her, love? Any more of this and you’ll have broken all me mugs and driven every last customer away with dumb stares.”

           Harry chuckled at her complaints, knowing that she didn’t really mean them. “Sorry. I’ll.. I’ll try, I guess.”

           “Try? If your curls have anything to do with it, she’ll fall right in love with you. Them or your bum.”

           “Barbara!” Harry exclaimed again, pretending to glare at her despite a dimply grin that popped up on his face.

           “Aye, I’m just sayin’. Go talk to her, love, you’ve got nothin to lose.” She nodded, washing used coffee cups in a large sink behind the counter.

           Harry smiled a laugh before he rounded the corner and pushed through the swinging half-door. He slid his burgundy apron from around his neck and folded it at his waist, pausing in the doorway to the seating area.

           Could he really do this? Admiring someone from afar was totally different than actually having to talk to them. Sure, he’d never really had that much trouble with girls, but for some reason this girl seemed different. He just felt all bubbly and weird on the inside and he wasn’t sure exactly how to handle that, and wasn’t even sure if he liked it or not. It’s quite a scary thing to feel out of control of your emotions.

           His resolved picked back up when he noticed her beginning to pack her belongings. It’d be a shame to miss the opportunity-- he should at least find out her name and introduce himself and, you know, see if she needed any napkins or anything. But just as he was about to approach her table, someone else stopped beside her.

           “Oh, hey! Good to see you. How’s that paper coming? Ah, as it does. I’ll see you tomorrow then? You too, have a nice night.”

           Harry froze in his steps. What? Zayn? Zayn knew her? A few seconds passed without him even realizing as he stared with wide eyes a few feet away while she scooted towards the doors.

           “Hey mate, how are you?”

           Harry’s mind was a big mess of confusion as he tried to answer, his eyes still watching the girl as she made the bell on the door jingle in her departure. “I, uh.. yes. I mean hey—hello—fine. I’m fine.”

           Zayn paused and cocked his head. “I know I haven’t seen you in a while, but it hasn’t been that long. You looked stunned to see me, mate.”

           “What?” Harry asked, his attention finally turning to his friend. Well, his sister’s friend. His sister’s friend who was now also his friend since they both lived quite far from their home town and Harry’s sister was eternally worried about Harry’s life so far from home. She enlisted Zayn to keep an eye on him and turned out they actually became quite lovely friends. Zayn assumed the role of older brother without any hesitation and Harry appreciated having some semblance of family for when things at university got too hectic. Barbara helped with that too.

           “No, sorry, I just got distracted for a second. It’s good to see you. Come on in, I’ll fix you a cuppa.” He worked to even out his voice. He wasn’t ready for Zayn to find out about his silly crush on this girl, especially since he knew her. That would be too much awkward for him to handle. Especially since his sister would inevitably find out and she always did make good fun of his failed attempts at love. He’d never hear the end of it if she knew he couldn’t even talk to a girl he was interested in.

           Zayn slid onto a stool in front of the counter as Harry pulled out another mug.

           “How are things with school?”

           “Fine, yeah. Things are good.” Harry nodded, pouring milk into the bottom of the cup.

           “How’s Niall?”

           “Um, fine, I guess. Relationship drama, I think. Well, yeah, he’s a bit torn up. Bre broke up with him a couple of weeks ago. He’s kind of a mess. But he’s tough. He’ll get over it, I guess.” Harry spoke in fragments as he reached for a pastry from the display case and finished fixing Zayn’s usual order.

           “Zayn!” Barbara called happily as she bustled from the kitchen to retrieve the empty coffee pot.

           “Hey Barbara!” He waved casually.

           “Good to see you, lad. Looking healthy. How’s your job at the school?”

           “It’s fine, fanks.” He smiled, his eyes twinkling.

           “Ohh, good to hear. You keep up the hard work, then. And don’t let too many young ladies take advantage of that handsome face of yours!” She nodded as she disappeared back into the kitchen. Zayn and Harry shared a chuckle.

           “Same old Barbara.” Zayn chuckled along.

           “Same old Barbara.” Harry agreed with a grin.

           Harry placed the mug in front of Zayn, who nodded a thanks, then leant his arms against the counter.

           “So how’s Bridgette?”

           Harry’s throat immediately tightened and his eyes averted Zayn’s.

           “Uh, she’s.. she’s fine. Yeah, she’s fine.” He looked back up at Zayn who didn’t look convinced. “We just, you know. Talk sometimes, that’s all.”

           Zayn raised his eyebrows, but much to Harry’s relief he didn’t question further. He couldn’t help what had happened—or what kept happening, for that matter. It wasn’t his fault, right? Besides, he thought maybe this new girl could fix all that. Or at least, that’s what he hoped. That is, if he could ever build up the courage to talk to her.

           And though he really hadn’t seen Zayn in a while and was excited to catch up over a couple of cups of hot tea and chocolate chip scones, the whole time he couldn’t shake the hanging thought of her, the mystery girl with an affinity for caffe lattes.

 


	4. More Than This

           He couldn't believe it, it couldn't be true. But then again, maybe it could. Zayn knew he'd never been good enough for her, but if she had just said something first-- if she had just given him some kind of warning, some kind of preparation.. but then, maybe he didn't even deserve that. She was levels above him in every way and it was ridiculous for him to think that she'd ever loved him at all. Why would she? How could she? Sometimes he wondered why or how anybody could. Regardless, seeing her with someone else had completely ripped his heart out. Even with knowing that he didn't deserve someone so entirely perfect it still didn't feel right. And no matter how hard he strained he hadn't been able to see his face. It was all a bit of an annoying, desperate blur, but more than anything he was sure it wasn't a friendly interaction. No, it had been something much more, but his legs had failed him and they'd slipped away before he could get a closer look, before he could pull her away and plead with her as if his life depended on it. Because, honestly, in some ways it really did.

           Strangely tied down by a surreal force, he'd felt swallowed up by the crowded sidewalk. His frantic calls seemed a whisper in competition with the volume of the city. Why couldn't he just get her attention? Why wouldn't she just look in his direction and let the realization come over her? He loved her, no matter his shortcomings and flaws. He loved her, and he'd have done just about anything to tell her right then and there. But, for some reason she didn't. And he couldn't.

           Then night had fallen-- or rather, to him it felt as if night had dropped because for some reason everything felt a bit surreal and the darkness came over him so quickly he'd forgotten to turn his headlights on. Maybe he'd just been too caught up in thought to realize the sunset, or maybe his despair had blinded him from beauty. All beauty except her.

           And then he'd been on her stair, the walls boasting a new coat of bright orange paint and reminding him how easily good things could be replaced. Was the orange paint really better? It seemed a bit tacky to him, and he'd rather liked the easy-going blue that had once been. His fingers traced the new color as he slowly made his way to her floor. He felt sad for easy-going blue, really. Maybe it was a little old and boring, maybe there were a few stains and maybe it wasn't the best color ever. But he didn't think that was reason enough to wipe it out entirely. Then the orange paint seemed to change to plum purple, and he wondered if it was the lighting or if perhaps he'd been so distracted he'd missed the plum purple all along. Either way he missed the easy-going blue because-- oh, there was her door.

           His head fell and his eyes bore into the smirched carpet as he thought about her eyes-- her beautiful, oak-brown eyes. Once he'd thought they'd shown with love for him, but now he was convinced it had all been fake. It had to have been. And he didn't think he could bear to look into them and not see that look. Or maybe he was more afraid to look into them and see that look about somebody else.

           And then, as if she'd been able to sense his presence, the door creaked open and she spoke his name.

           "Zayn."

           "Saura--" He attempted, but his voice caught in his throat. Her eyes were distant and hollow and reserved for someone else, but still he couldn't ignore their beautiful depth.

           "Saura, w-what's going on?" his voice cracked with tears he didn't see coming. Why was it that his emotions caught him at the worst times? Why all of the sudden could he not control the streams of salty water that he usually kept in check with no problem? They came so thick and strong that his clothes felt like they'd just been through the washer.

           "Everything's fine, Zayn, everything's fine. Why are you so upset?" She replied with a hand to his face, just like she always did.  _Everything's fine._  How could she say that? She must know that he'd found out. But, she was so sincere he was halfway convinced he'd been wrong. His heart had held a flicker of hope as he considered that he might have just made the whole thing up in his head. But then he'd heard his voice.

           "Everything's fine?" He asked and pushed the door open further, only to reveal Harry's blonde-headed roommate entering the hallway behind her.  _Harry's roommate?_  It didn't make any sense.

           "What? Why is he here??" He asked in confusion and looked back to her face. Saura's eyes narrowed with uncharacteristic spite as the young college student wrapped his arms around her.

           "I'm sorry, baby, but this is just how it has to be." She raised her eyebrow, clearly not meaning what she was saying.

           "But Saura--" He pleaded as she began to shut the door. "Saura!"

           "Bye, Zayn." She nearly sneered, the door closing on his face. His fist went to hit the wood, but his strength left him and his whole world was swallowed up in the blackness his heart felt. He felt the dizziness in his head would never stop, swirling ever further into an unknown, terrifying nothingness. His voice called out again and again, her name bleeding out of his lips frantic and scared. "Saura! Saura-- Saura, please, don't. Saura--"

           Zayn’s head jerked and eyes fluttered at the sound of knocking at his door. He inhaled sharply as he cracked his eyelids and looked around himself. Student essays were strewn over his couch, coffee table, and stomach. A red pen bled into his khaki pants where it had been resting in his limp hand. He shoved the papers off of himself and stood up quickly as the knocks continued. Before he could fully wake himself, he pulled the door open, a sick feeling staying in the pit of his stomach.

           "Saura.." he breathed out in relief.

           "Just wake from a nap?" she laughed and stepped closer to him.

           "What? Oh, um, sort of. I was grading papers and.. nodded off I guess." he replied, head and heart still not fully convinced his experience had been a dream. She moved to hug him without reservation, so he carefully reciprocated. She must have sensed his hesitancy, though, because she pulled back, gently gripping his arms and looking up at him.

           "Baby, are you okay?" Her eyes searched his, and when he finally allowed himself to peer back he saw the look he'd been afraid to loose minutes before. His heart took hope-- it really must have been a dream... right?

           "I don't know, I.. I just..." he tried to explain, sleepy, nightmarish confusion clouding his words. She sighed knowingly.

           "You had another dream, didn't you.." she spoke softly and pulled him into another hug. "Baby, you know those aren't true." Her touch was sure and firm, and it helped his heart differentiate dream and reality.

           "I love you so much, and nothing's going to change that. Don't let yourself believe you're not worth it. You are. You are so worth it, baby." She spoke, saying everything his heart needed to hear. "Everything's fine."

           Her body pulled back once more, this time her hand moving to his face, but he turned away with the memory of his dream. He hated that his subconscious could take something so dear to him and twist it into something so awful.

           "Zayn.." she nearly whispered and a frown tugged at her lips. "Let's talk about it then, yeah?"

           He gave a small nod and let her take his hand. He didn't know if she'd ever understand how much her patience meant to him. She always seemed to know just how to make him feel better and was always ready to talk him through his nightmares. The dreams were just so real and life-like that sometimes it took a bit of convincing for him to fully remember what was true and what was fake, but she never seemed to tire of reassuring him again and again that she was there and there to stay.

           And though she was always able to bring him back to reality and he knew that he could trust her implicitly, something in the back of his mind always nagged at him. With a girl like her, it really did seem too good to be true. But, in some ways, maybe that was the best part of all.


	5. Up All Night

           The sun burned red on the horizon. Liam's fingers traced his sooty beard, his eyes betraying better judgement and staring hard into the light. The early morning air felt good to his tired lungs, clean and clear despite his own smoky scent, and the cool cement stairs beneath him were a welcome change from the boiling heat from hours before. His body was exhausted, but his mind wandered. It had been a long night-- his busiest in weeks-- and even though he'd been doing it for years, he never quite got used to the peak of adrenaline and the low of realizing you'd just stared death in the face. And you never really could be quite ready for what you'd see and hear, what you'd have to do and where you'd have to go, who's life you'd be saving and who's you couldn't. That was sort of the thing about firefighting-- you could prepare for years and still not be ready for what you'd have to deal with on any given night.

           The night before had been one of those hard nights. Midway through it had seemed the sun might never rise and the only light left in the world was that of a million blazing, hot fires.

           "Payne, the alarm." One of his buddies shook him awake. Though the clock told him it had been only fifteen minutes since he shut his eyes, he felt the grogginess of a deep sleep trying to convince him to stay in his bed.  He willed himself off the soft surface and stumbled into his pants as he half listened to the chatter coming in over the radio.

           "Third call tonight. We never get a break, do we?" he mumbled through a yawn. His partner Rodney poked his head through the door, his helmet already in place.

           "We got a big one, Payno." he gave Liam a sober look and tossed him an energy drink before disappearing back into the hallway. Liam's mind snapped into focus as he caught the chilled can in his hands. He could already hear the wail of distant sirens as he threw his gear together, an exercise he performed quickly and mindlessly as he had hundreds of times before. He bounded into the truck just as it began to jerk forward, Rodney squeezing in beside him and closing the door just as the truck cleared the station's walls.

           The lawn of the multi-story complex was crowded with people. The building's inhabitant's mixed with paramedics and firefighters, and the police were already attempting to make a safety zone away from the roaring flames of the building. As soon as the truck's doors opened, the roar of the fire and terrified shouts of the people enveloped his ears. The firefighters snapped into work, routine made practical as they quickly fitted and uncurled the long hoses, situated their oxygen masks, and grabbed their tools.

           The incident commander jogged up to Liam and his team and gave them a brief rundown of the situation.

           "I think we've got everyone out. There are some boys from station 15 still inside making sure. You guys start working on containing floor one and make sure they get out okay." He informed.

Liam started making his way for the building, hose in tow, when a pair of firefighters burst out of the front door. One was clearly injured, leaning heavily on the other while keeping the weight off of his left leg.

           "The building's not stable!" the uninjured fireman called out. "The ceiling caved on us and Jerry took a hit to the knee!" Paramedics reached the pair just as Liam got close to them. 

           "Is there anyone left inside?" he asked, raising his voice above the roar of the flames mere feet above their heads. The fireman quickly made sure his partner was safely on a stretcher before turning back to Liam. 

           "Yes." he said with regret in his voice. "A woman on the third floor. We couldn't reach her after the hallway collapsed." He must have seen the light of determination in Liam's eyes because he grabbed hold of Liam's arm and pleaded "It's not safe, mate! The whole place could come down any minute!" Liam shook his arm free and motioned for Rodney to follow.

           "Is her life worth yours?!" the fireman yelled at Liam's back as the pair made their way up the steps to the door. Liam's eyes narrowed and he turned just long enough to make eye contact with the weary man.

           "Yes."

           Just then, he heard a shout from the radio on his shoulder. "Payne! The roof! The roof's coming down! Get clea-" he missed the rest of the warning as he shouldered past Rodney and slammed through the smoldering door. The entire front door disappeared into a collapsing pile of burning debris, and he lost sight of his partner.

           "Roddy? Come in Roddy!" he shouted into his radio. "Rodney do you hear me?!" For a second he heard nothing but static, and he knew his partner must be buried under a pile of burning rubble. Then a burst of coughing came through the radio.

           "I'm alright, mate. I'm okay! Calm down! Are you alright in there? The whole front of the building collapsed!"

           His momentary relief at hearing his partner's voice was replaced with a twinge of fear that tried to freeze him where he stood, but he knew that panic would only ensure that he wouldn't leave this building alive. He tossed down the useless hose and responded.

           "I'm okay." He glanced around him, assessing his situation. The hallway in front of him had tongues of flame starting to creep down the walls. "I'm not getting out that way anymore. I'll have to find another way out. Get a ladder and come around the south side. I'm going to try to save that woman on floor three." There was a pause on the other end.

           "You're daft, mate."

           "I know."

 

           Fifteen minutes, two flights of stairs, and countless doors later, Liam paused to take inventory. He was running low on oxygen. There seemed to be an unlimited number of apartments in this building, and his arms were not going to last much longer bashing in doors with his axe. The smoke now reached almost to the floor, and in some places he'd had to backtrack and use alternate routes when the floor in front of him had given way. Either he found this woman soon, or neither of them would be leaving this building alive.

            _She's probably already dead anyway._  He thought grimly. He didn't see any way someone without an oxygen mask could survive this kind of smoke, much less the heat and flames. But then he heard a terrified scream from behind the next door, so he quickly beat on it and called out.

           "I'm in here! I'm in here!!" He heard her call back frantically.

           "Ma'am, stay calm." Liam reassured her, though he wasn't so confident they'd both find a safe exit. "Stay clear of the door. I'm coming in."

           He attempted to beat the door down, but the lock held firm. His axe clashed with the lock, his arms already exhausted. The flames burned ever closer, his suit no match for the severity of the heat. His well-used axe finally succumbed to the abuse it has sustained that night and the handle split into a splintery mess. Stunned, he stared at his ruined tool for a moment in disbelief before throwing it on the floor in frustration. With no other options left, he threw his entire body against the door.

           It gave slightly, but didn't break, and he felt his shoulder scream in pain.

            _That's gonna hurt in the morning._  He winced. He slammed into the door two more times, and with a loud cry born of desperation and fierce determination, he crashed through the damaged door.

           The great force caused him to hurl through the doorway and onto a nearby table, then thud to the ground as the wood broke beneath his weight. His hand crushed between him and a shattered piece of the table, and his body clenched in pain.

           Wincing, he slowly pulled himself from the floor and debris, then crawled towards the woman's scared calls for help. The building shook, and debris began to rain down on him. A burning ember somehow lodged itself down his suit against the skin on his neck. He frantically reached to displace it, but after a few swipes he realized it was futile. The ceiling creaked louder and appeared to warp in the intense heat. Despite his concern, he put it from his mind and finished making his way to the trapped woman.

           He could see then why she hadn't made it out with the rest of the building's residents: there was a large bookcase that had fallen in front of the door, blocking her exit. His fingers were made clumsy by his thick gloves, and he growled in frustration as he failed to grip the offending piece of furniture well enough to move it. His gloves slapped against the floor as he threw them down, freeing his bloody, blistered fingers. His eyes widened as he watched blood stream down his injured arm, but like the flaming ceiling, he put that out of his mind too so he could focus on the task at hand.

            A few grunts of effort later the door was free and he wrenched it open. A woman lay curled on the floor, sobbing under a pile of steaming towels.  She wouldn't have lasted much longer, he realized.

She gripped his arms in a terrified flurry and he spoke to her calmly through his mask.

           "I need you to stay calm, ma'am. What's your name?"

           "Tiffany. My name's Tiffany."

           "Okay, Tiffany, I'm Liam. I'm going to get you out of here. Come with me and keep your head low." He instructed and she dutifully followed until she collapsed to the floor coughing uncontrollably. Without a second thought, he hoisted her on his back and made a bounding leap towards her glass balcony door. He ripped his mask off and slammed it into the door, shattering the glass, before stepping through into the fresher air. Smoke billowed out of the door behind him as he set her down against the railing. It was only a matter of time before the roof caved in or the building collapsed.

           He hunkered down in front of her, hoping to protect her from the debris and flames.

           "Tiffany, I need you to keep breathing and stay calm, okay? We're going to get out of here in no time."

           "Okay.. okay." She nodded furiously, tears obviously stinging at her eyes. He looked around for his escape route. Three stories up on a free-floating balcony wasn't a great place to be. Better than in the inferno, but still not great. There was no sign of a ladder or any form of escape.

           Then Rodney appeared around the side of the building.

           "Rodney!" He called out as loud as he smoke-strained voice would allow.

           "PAYNO!" His partner practically screamed, then rushed back and Liam thought he could hear distant yelling, though his ears had begun ringing intolerably.

           Rodney wasn't the type of guy to leave his partner high and dry. Rodney always came through for him. And that's why they were great partners.

 

           For a time, everything was a blur. What seemed like only moments later, the cage of a ladder truck appeared, and he saw Rodney shake his head as he helped Liam onto the metal floor.

           Rodney's hoarse voice chided him. "You can't keep doing this kind of thing man, you've got to be more careful." Liam gave a small smile before the world went peacefully dark.

           When he woke, he was laying on the ground in front of the still smoldering building with an oxygen mask pulled tight on his face, the lights of the emergency vehicles flashing obnoxiously in the night. Someone was inspecting his hand, but he stubbornly pushed them away as he sat up.

           He quickly found the girl laying on a stretcher receiving similar treatment as he, though she was still unconscious.

           "Is she alright?" He asked the paramedics tending to her.

"It's a bit early to tell, but we're hopeful that she'll be okay. She's got some pretty serious smoke inhalation. A few more minutes and she would have been a goner. Good work, man."

           Liam sighed in relief, though his body still held concern. He peered up at her face and what hit him next was unexpected and uncomfortable. Her face...  it was beautiful! Despite the ash and soot and singed bits of hair, she was undeniably gorgeous. He stepped back for a moment, shocked at the emotional response inside him. Never had he felt attracted to a life he had just saved. Usually the adrenaline was too much, the job not over, the fire still burning hot, and people still needing to be saved. But for some strange reason he couldn't help this feeling... He suddenly felt sick and almost turned to leave, but just then he felt someone grip his hand softly. He looked down at her again and saw her blink her eyes open and whisper, "Liam?"         

"Good to see you awake." He replied, his voice somehow even and calm. His heart, however, did not feel calm at all.

           "Am I.."

           "You're fine. You're going to be just fine. These nice folks have got you taken care of. Just a quick trip to the hospital and you'll be back to life as normal." he nodded and smiled in her direction.

Her eyes held concern for his well-being, but all she could choke out was a very heart-felt, "Thank you."

Her eyes closed again, and the paramedics hoisted her stretcher into the back of the ambulance. He was glad the moment was over.

           Why had he responded in such a strange way? He knew the emotional connection he had felt was only a liability in his line of work. It bothered him-- scared him, really-- and he didn't understand it. Even with all his wounds from the whole fiasco, he was convinced the emotional strain was worse-- so much worse-- than the physical.

 

           "Payne, I called day crew to come in here early to relieve us after last night. You can go." his chief broke his thoughts.

Liam glanced up at him and nodded. He knew his chief could tell he was still emotionally processing the events earlier.

           "You did good work last night, Payne. Take the next few days off. You need it."

Liam nodded silently again as his chief walked closer.  The older man paused a second before lightly patting Liam on the shoulder.

           "I mean it. Get out of here before I change my mind." he chuckled.  Liam smiled wryly and stood, his sore muscles groaning as he stretched. The sun was nearly risen and his long night was finally over.


	6. I Wish

           Louis' windshield wipers clumped back and forth as he drove down the empty street. His chin rested in his propped hand, a finger brushing at his mustache. He sighed and thumped the thumb of his other hand against the steering wheel. The pouring rain didn't bother him so much, but the uneasy feeling turning in his stomach didn't sit well. Wasn't it just yesterday that driving down this street meant going home? His mind wandered to what it used to feel like to drive this path on his commute home from work. It had felt so good, so warm and right, so rewarding with the promise of his wife and Charlie waiting for him. His brow tightened as he remembered the feeling of lifting Charlie's body off the ground with his little arms circling his neck and his wife leaning over their embrace to welcome him home with a kiss. They'd all laugh and share funny stories from their day as Louis would swing Charlie around and his wife would insist they sit down for dinner. He'd make a playfully sarcastic comment into her ear as he passed her in the kitchen and she'd blush tulip pink every time. Charlie's innocent inquiries only made them both chuckle even more, and Louis would distract him with a mini food fight that would be quickly reprimanded by his mother. It was memories like those that made him wonder if he'd done the right thing. In some ways he thought maybe he'd never really had stopped missing them, never stopped missing her, never really stopped wishing that maybe he'd--

          A clap of thunder jostled his thoughts and he quickly pressed the breaks, almost driving past his old home. Charlie sat under the overhang of the porch, backpack strapped to his small shoulders and cleats dutifully gripped in his little hands. Louis rolled down the window.

          "Ready to go, bub?" He called over the spattering rain.

          "Dad!! Yeah, lemme just go tell mum you're here!" Charlie squeaked excitedly and momentarily disappeared into the house. He and his mum both appeared seconds later, a phone pressed to her ear as she waved shortly.

          "Have him home by 2:30 on Sunday, we're hosting a party for his class." She yelled across the lawn.

          "2:30?! You're nearly stealing half my day with him-- we agreed on 5!" Louis called back, but she gave another short wave and retreated into the house, obviously preoccupied with her phone conversation. Charlie ran for the car and ducked in, his hair dampened by the rain. His cleats flopped onto the floor as he shimmied his backpack off.

          "Do you think we'll be able to play footie, dad?" Charlie asked, his pure hopefulness making Louis smile.

          "I don't know, Charlie, it's not supposed to stop raining until Sunday. What's the party your mum is planning?" Louis replied, the car beginning to move forward over the wet asphalt.

          "It's for my school class. It's not really a party I don't think, we're learning about.. oh, something, I forget. I think Mr. Jeffery suggested it. He's really smart."

          "Mr. Jeffrey?"

          "Yeah, Mr. Jeffery. He's a doctor or something. I think he and mum are planning the party tonight."       

          "What makes you think that?" Louis asked, his stomach beginning to drop. 

          "I heard her talking to him on the phone. She said, 'Yes, I'm definitely free tonight. 7:30 is fine.'" Charlie replied, his silly "mum" voice making Louis chuckle, despite the surprising panic growing within him. His mind began to go crazy, a million questions working themselves out all at once. Was she seeing other people? Were they going on a date? Had they  _already_  been out? If so, how many times? What if they were serious and he hadn't found out until now? Did Charlie like him? Did he like Charlie?

          "Dad?" Charlie questioned, breaking Louis' thought train. 

          "Yeah, bub?" He replied and briefly turned his head to the back seat. Charlie's gaze was fixed out the window and he looked too pensive for a boy of six. Louis felt concern that his silence had alarmed his son.

          "Can we get milkshakes?"

          Louis laughed a sigh of relief. "Of course, bub." He nodded and pushed his foot a little harder on the accelerator. Maybe they didn't have every day together, but at least they still had after-school milkshakes.

 

          Before he knew it, his time with Charlie was over and he was driving down the familiar street again. Charlie was such a good kid that he didn't even mind that it rained all weekend. "It's okay, dad, we can just play next weekend." He'd deduced and Louis couldn't believe his positivity. It certainly wasn't something Charlie had learned from him.

          Louis put his arm over Charlie's shoulders as they walked to the front door. It felt so odd to ring the doorbell of his own house, but then.. it wasn't his own house anymore, was it? He glanced at the brickwork of the garden-- the brickwork  _he'd_  put in. It seemed like such a waste, especially with the argument that had followed his "unsatisfactory" work. He thought it looked pretty good and if she had thought it was so bad, why was it still there? But he knew it hadn't actually been about the placement of the bricks.

          The door opened enough for her frame to appear.

          "Thanks for getting him back on time." She nodded sternly. 

          "As opposed to the other times when I don't.." he tried hard not to glare.

          "Well, there are plenty of times when you're less than punctual." She said in a masked voice, sing-songy to fool their son, but they both knew he was used to it. Louis looked down and met Charlie's eyes. He didn't like the twinge of sadness that he saw, so he bit his tongue.

          "Well.. you're welcome anyway."

          Before she could pull Charlie in and slam the door in his face as usual, another man appeared behind her.

          "Louis! I've been interested to meet you after hearing so much about you from Charlie-- why don't you come in? In fact, why don't you stay for the party?"

          "Jeffrey-- Jeffrey I don't think that's a very good idea." his wife stuttered over the man's booming voice.

          Louis stammered back for a moment, but his mischievous mind quickly took over. If his wife was dating someone he wanted to know about it.       

          "You know.. that actually sounds lovely. I do so enjoy meeting my wife's--"           

          "Ex-wife." she interrupted.           

          ".. ex-wife's.. friends." Louis finished with a sly grin in her direction. Charlie's face lit up at the prospect.         

          "You mean he can help us decorate the cake??" He jumped.

          "I will definitely help you  _eat_  the cake." Louis chuckled at his son and Charlie pulled him inside by the hand, already chattering about how excited he was since his mum never let him eat anything with too much sugar in it-- except for when he was with Louis, of course, because then she didn't know-- but this time they were getting his favorite cake, and wow, he just couldn't wait to eat it.

 

          Not too long after, all of the families of kids in Charlie's class started to arrive and what Louis thought might be a dumb kid's party turned out to be a rather nice cookout with many of the people he knew from teaching at Charlie's school. They all, however, seemed to know this Jeffrey person and were way too excited about the presentation he was giving for the kids. Louis didn't understand what could be so great about it, but with Charlie's pleading he agreed to stay inside for the whole thing instead of knocking back a couple of beers over the grill with some of the other dads.

          It started out rather boring to Louis, but he couldn't deny that he was pretty good with kids. His explanations were funny and educational and all that jazz, but as a teacher, Louis knew he was hyper-critical. And the fact that Jeffrey was using his wife as an assistant made him even more critical. Did he really need to touch her like that? Was the close whispering really necessary? Yeah, Louis was still immensely angry at her, but for some reason he couldn't shake his jealousy. Her flirtatious giggles only made him angrier, but then he also found himself stabbed with a deep sadness that he hadn't been expecting. It surprised him in the worst way and made his face feel like it might melt off, so he shuffled into the kitchen, hoping that a bit of distance would help him cool down.

          Soon, the presentation was over and the raucous applause and laughter only made him feel sicker. Charlie's giggles rose above the rest, making Louis lean onto the counter with his face in his hands. The sound of people approaching made him straighten again, only to find it was his wife and Jeffrey sliding out of the crowded room in fond chitters, Jeffrey's hands too far down her back. Louis' eyes narrowed briefly as the realization came over him. It was obvious-- they had to be dating. His whole body began to shake and his stomach twisted. Then they both turned as they learned of his presence.

          "Louis--" Jeffrey started, obviously caught a bit off guard. Louis' stunned silence made the room feel very uncomfortable. "We were just talking about how great the kids respon--" 

          " _Don't_." Louis spat out, unable to make eye contact. He was suddenly afraid-- afraid of losing her, afraid of competition, afraid of what it meant for his relationship with Charlie. Perhaps most of all he was afraid of his own emotions. He didn't expect to respond so violently to something so small, but he knew he was crashing. And so did his wife. She knew-- he knew she did-- because she'd dealt with it so many times before. Or.. not dealt with it, which had been part of their problem.

          "Louis.." she started hesitantly, knowing he was in his emotionally fragile state. She knew soon he would implode or explode, and neither was good.

          "Don't." he repeated. He just had to get out, had to get away. He looked around the room frantically and found the quickest exit, his shaky legs helping him stumble towards the door.

          "Louis!" She called after him, uncharacteristic concern in her voice. Maybe she was finally realizing her actions affected other people.

          His hands slammed on the steering wheel as his mind went into overdrive. All of the memories came crashing down on him-- memories of her harsh words, the bitter ones she'd said in a hushed whisper as she worked to not wake Charlie with their biting arguments, memories of the pitted anger he felt burning inside of him as he'd slammed the door and left, memories of her cunning deceit as she worked with slimy lawyers to steal away his son.

          But then, oh, but then the  _other_  memories came. Her hair blowing in the wind on their first date at the docks. Their first road trip to her parent's house when they'd gotten terribly lost and laughed so hard they had to pull over. How beautiful she looked walking towards him down the aisle and the tears that streamed down her face when he'd taken her hands and whispered, "I love you." in front of the entire church.

          And her smile-- the one she made when he did something undeniably dumb. And the laugh she giggled at his silly jokes. And the way her hands fit just so in his and how soft her hair felt against his arm and the way her eyelashes fluttered just before she fell asleep.

          He looked down to his lap. Now.. now someone else got to enjoy those things? He felt robbed, betrayed, violated. Those were  _his_  things to love,  _his_ moments to cherish. Or at least.. they once had been, and as he took one last glance at his old home before he drove away, he couldn't help but wish they were again. He hated himself for it, hated his mind being consumed with all of those beautiful memories. So long he had replaced any softness toward her with anger and bitterness because, honestly, it was easier. But the uncontrolled thoughts of their happier days made him realize his greatest fear was coming true.

          He wasn't over it. And she was.

 


	7. Tell Me a Lie

           The room spun and Niall tried to focus his eyes forward though his heart was beating out of his chest, causing him to feel lightheaded and dizzy. Of all the answers he had imagined, this was not one of them. This was worse than all of them combined, worse than every scenario he’d created in his head, worse even than her just deciding she’d had enough. Now he _wished_ for any of the other reasons. Now he wished it had, in fact, been something he’d done or something he hadn’t. Just something. But not  _someone_.

           His stunned silence caused Bre to look down at her hands.

           “I’m sorry, I.. I feel terrible.” She spoke quietly. His eyes narrowed as she sighed regretfully. 

           “Terrible? You feel terrible..” He replied in hurt, uncharacteristic anger starting to bubble up.

           How could she have done this? They were perfect--  _she_  was perfect-- how could this have happened? Was he just not enough? He felt betrayed. The one person he trusted most hadn’t been trustworthy at all. How could this have happened? How could he have been so stupid? What was she thinking??

           “How long?” He asked shortly, unable to say more amidst his swirling thoughts, but she knew what he’d meant.

           She paused. “Two months.”

           Niall ran a hand through his hair and tried to rationally process the shocking information. The trip to his family’s house, the dinner at the pier, the trip to London, her  _birthday_.. had it really all been fake? How could he have been so blind? And all the weekends she had stayed in for homework.. she hadn’t been doing homework, had she… she’d been with him.  _Him_. Why was he so much better? Hadn’t Niall given her everything, been there for her, listened to her late night rambles and early morning rants and silly giggles at their favorite TV show? Or maybe she had lied about that too.. maybe she didn’t even like the same shows as him. How could he know anymore? Devastation began to set in and he thought about her soft face and twinkling eyes and laughing smile. So many times he had thought he was the reason for that smile, but now he wasn’t so sure. But then-- what of her shining personality and quirky disposition and fun-loving outlook on life? No.. with all of those wonderful things it couldn’t be her fault. She couldn’t have done something like this. She was pure through and through, it must have been him that made her lose interest. She was still perfect, she had to be. He knew she was.

           “Niall..” She muttered, concerned at his silence. He looked up again, his full, wet eyes meeting hers, and his head softly shaking. His voice was weak now, sudden anger replaced with a hollowness that made her uncomfortable.

           “Why did you do it? Why him? Why now?” He whispered, his tone shaking.

           “Niall, I don’t know, I-- I didn’t mean for it to happen.” Her face was troubled as she began to reach for his arm, but he pulled his skin from under the touch of her fingers. He didn’t think he could bear to feel her knowing that she wasn’t his, knowing what she’d done. “Niall..”

           Her voice felt like poison to his ears-- poison coated in the sweetest candy. In that moment he sort of just wished she’d just made up something-- anything-- and kept it all a secret. Maybe she had been right not to tell him at first. He thought maybe not knowing would be easier than the truth. But, then again.. she’d told him enough lies. Maybe it was time for her to tell him the truth for once.

           Slowly he walked back to his dorm. Every step felt like it might cause his last heart beat, but he kept walking anyway. He worked to process the conversation, but he was so stunned he didn’t think he could quite yet. His mind was exhausted, his emotions wiped out. The questions swirling around in his head started to fade as his feelings began to numb. It felt better to not care at all, even if just for a moment. Deep down he knew his heart was ravished and torn, fragmented and destroyed. But he needed relief, and the only way he could get it was to feel nothing.

           When he got back to his dorm, Harry wasn’t there. He sort of hoped he would be so he wouldn’t be left alone to his thoughts. It always seemed they were his worst enemies at times like these. Instead, he figured it was a good time to call his older brother since he hadn’t talked to him in a week.

           The phone rang as Niall slumped onto his bed. He hoped his brother was free because he’d rather tell him about Bre in person and knock back a couple of beers over a game of football than wallow in self pity over the phone. Besides the fact that he just needed to get out.

           A voice spoke on the other end. “Hello?”

           “Liam?”

           “Hey bro, how are you?” Liam chirped, unaware of Niall’s fragility.

           “Not good, Liam. I saw Bre.” Niall’s voice was quiet.

           “She agreed to talk to you?” Liam asked, concerned.

           “Yeah, but.. mate, are you free? Can I come over?”

           Liam paused for a moment, clearly conflicted. “I really wish I was, but I have a date tonight and she’s literally about to arrive any minute. Can we hang this weekend?”

           Niall sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah.. yeah, it’s fine. I’ll let you go.”

           “Hang in there, bro.” Liam’s voice softened.

           Niall wasn’t able to say anything else before hanging up the phone. In his mind he understood Liam already had plans, but his emotions were so topsy-turvy that everything felt like a big deal. He fell back onto his bed and let his phone fall to his side. What did it matter, anyway? He wouldn’t be good company, so there was no use in ruining Liam’s night, especially since he had a date. He couldn’t deny that it was a little extra painful that the reason Liam couldn’t hang out was because of that. Why was it that whenever he was in heartache everyone else seemed to be blissfully falling in love? He hated that.

           “Niall?” Harry spoke up and flipped on the lights as he entered the dorm room. Niall blinked his eyes at the bright light and raised his head.

           “Yeah?” He mumbled, his upset thoughts clouding his switch back to reality.

           “Oh good, you’re back. Thought you might need some of these.” Harry said and swung a case of beers up on his bed. The bottles clanked as the bed shook. “Also I rented this dumb new action movie and ordered pizza because is it just me or are we starving?” Harry’s silly grin made Niall sit up on his elbows.

           “Pizza?” He repeated.

           “Yeah, should be here in half an hour. Think we have enough time to make a run for popcorn?”

           Though Niall’s face probably didn’t show it, a glimmer of happiness poked its way into his heart. Maybe he didn’t have Bre, but he still had Haz. Best friends are good that way.

           “Yeah, mate, at least we can try.” Niall nodded and Harry looked satisfied. With that comment he knew he’d pricked Niall’s negativity.

           “Alright, well stop laying around and let’s go then.” He whined, just like always.

           That was one of the things Niall sort of appreciated about him. Yeah, they were guys and didn’t outright say meaningful things most times, but Harry knew him well enough to know what he’d need and when he’d need it, without having to come out and say, “Hey, man, I’m sorry and let’s talk about it.” Harry didn’t have to say a thing more than “pizza” and Niall just knew. Harry cared and Harry understood. And no matter what girls might come and go, Harry’d always be there for him, just like he’d always be there for Harry.


	8. Taken

           “Harry! Up front!” Barbara called into the back over the sound of the water splashing into his mop bucket.

           “Coming.” He responded dutifully as he plopped his mop into the sudsy mixture. He rolled the contraption to the side and reached into the sink to pull the plug before making his way towards the front of the store.

           It had been an unusually slow afternoon so he was glad for the break from his menial duties of mopping and sweeping and refilling the flour tins. He prefered interacting with people and refilling coffee to being stuck in the back alone all day-- something that did cut down on his closing checklist, but didn’t help his _observational_  time. Not that it had mattered because  _she_  wouldn’t be in that day. Just Tuesdays and Thursdays, and sometimes a random Saturday. But not a boring, rainy Wednesday, so he figured if he had to be stuck in the back all day, that day was as good as any.

           He wiped his hands on a towel as he shouldered through the swinging door. The bakery was more silent than usual, though the faint sound of the cliche French album they always played on rainy days still drifted around the nearly empty cafe. He slid the towel onto the counter beside him as he pushed his employee ID number into the register.

           “Hii, I’m Harry, welcome to Barbara’s Bakery, how can I help..” He started rattling confidently, but then trailed as he looked up to the customer. “.. you..”

           The girl smiled briefly at his awkwardness, and he couldn’t help but pop a dimple in return, his own embarrassment making him laugh a little too.

           “Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting to see you today.  _I mean_ \-- it’s not that-- I mean, it’s just so rainy out there that there haven’t been many people in today and, you know, usually it’s the same people at the same time anyway so it’s just, um.. would you like a pastry?” He raised his shoulders cheekily, then smiled wide knowing his awkward was showing through and there was nothing he could do about it. He knew he’d stuck his foot in his mouth  _already_ , and also probably hadn’t made any sense at all trying to cover. Thankfully, she laughed.

           “It’s okay, my 4 o’clock class was cancelled. I’m not usually in here, except for on Tuesdays and Th--”

           “Thursdays. And sometimes Saturdays. Yeah, I know.” He grinned a laugh, and so did she.

           “I guess I’m pretty predictable then.” She shrugged and giggled shortly.

           “Nah, just consistent.” He shook his head and looked down, his own embarrassment surprising him. Girls didn’t usually make him so nervous. He paused for a moment and fiddled with the pen beside the register, trying to calm himself and regain composure. He felt rather silly being so flustered over just taking her order.

           “Um, anyway.. I’d like an apple turnover and a caffe latte, please.” She piped politely.

           “Oh right, sure.” He nodded and avoided looking at her eyes again, his pruney fingers gliding over the keys of the register.

           “For here or to-go?” He asked as he finished typing in her order.

           “Um, to-go today, I think.” She half smiled and he nodded as he picked up a paper cup from the top of the stack beside the register.

           “Better for me anyway.” He said, his voice holding a hint of sass. Her eyebrows raised in response. “Less washing!” His face lit up in a dimpled grin, unable to keep the sarcasm of his joke. 

           She chuckled and nodded her head. “Oh, okay. Right.”

           “Name?” He asked, sharpie in hand. She looked around the bakery, then back at him with a questioning eye, clearly suspicious of his need to mark her drink.

           “Don’t judge!” His voice rose in play. “There might be a rush of people at any moment, you don’t know what could happen. I’m just trying to get you your order, okay? Don’t complain about good service, sheesh.”

           She chuckled quietly again. “Diana.”

           “Ahh, Diana.”  _Finally_  he knew her name. And he thought it fit her in some weird, beautiful way.. or maybe that was just him being in way too deep without even knowing that much about her. He worked to straighten his thoughts again. “Right. D-Y-A-N-U-H. Die-an-uh.” He scribbled onto her cup, then turned it to show her. “Is this right?”

           She gave him a “derp” face before responding. “What.. that’s..” she started as if she was going to correct him, but then decided against it. “.. exactly right. That’s exactly right.” She nodded, her tone sarcastically patronizing.

           Harry laughed and turned to make her drink. “I knew it!”

           He heard her laugh to herself as he opened the mini fridge and retrieved the milk. Having his back to her while he whipped up her latte was oddly calming. It gave him time to breathe normally for a moment and remind himself to not freeze up and be totally awkward. It was significantly harder not to do that with her, even though he’d actually gotten pretty good at the whole “talking to girls” thing while at uni. Honestly, he thought he’d gotten  _more_  than pretty good, but then Bridgette had happened and that was a whole ‘nother story. He shook his head as he reached for the vanilla syrup. Why did his thoughts always have to end up back at Bridgette?

           “One caffe latte,” He said as he palmed the lid onto the cup and set it down on the counter, “And one... apple turnover..” he reached into the display cabinet built into the counter. The turnover easily slid into the paper bag and he set it in front of her.

           “That’ll be five twe--”

           “Twenty-three.” She finished with him. “Yeah, I know.”

           He worked to keep his grin inside his cheeks but he couldn’t help his eyes smiling for him. “Oh. Right.” He nodded with his words and chuckled as she raised her eyebrows. He quickly made the transaction and gave her the change.

           “Well..” He started, his mind flipping back and forth between whether he should use her name or not. Too cheesy? Too cliche? Too creepy? But his want to say it again won out, despite his internal struggle of thinking that was the dumbest reason in the world. “Have a good day,  _Diana_.”

           “You too,  _Harry_.” She played and gave one more small smile. “Thanks.”

           “Of course. See you tomorrow!” He called after her as she turned to walk out of the doors.

           “See you.” She gave a short wave and flipped her hood over her head before venturing out into the rain again.

           Harry couldn’t help but smile as he began to clean the counter where her turnover had left a few crumbs. He’d sort of forgotten what it felt like to feel completely giddy over a girl. It was just.. she was so lovely and funny and quirky and.. well, he wasn’t sure entirely why, but he just really wanted to get to know her better. Their conversation began to play in his mind again and he didn’t even mind the fact that he’d been a complete dork. He didn’t even mind that--

           “Harry!”

           His stomach sank as he turned to the voice. He’d always know that sound, always know the owner of that voice, both soft and destructive. 

           “Bridgette..” He greeted, his brows furrowing. “What are you.. uh, what..” he mumbled, confused.

           “Here to get some coffee.” She nodded.

           “Oh, right, yeah, sure.” He nodded back and took his place at the register again.

           “She a friend?”

           “What?”

           “That girl you were just giggling over.”

           “What? Oh, her, oh, no.. just a customer. I mean yeah, but no.” Harry shrugged nervously as he pushed in her order. He already knew what she wanted. Exes are weird that way-- how you can know so much about them and yet still be as distant as strangers. Things that used to feel romantic and good-- like knowing each other’s coffee orders-- turn into awkward, uncomfortable familiarities. 

           “Oh.” Bridgette softened, though her eyes held suspicion. “Actually, do you have a minute, Haz?”

           He looked up at her. “Um..” He thought for a moment, looking down uneasily. He knew if he said yes she’d do it again. She did it every time.

           “Please, Haz.” She reached for his hand and worked to make eye contact with him. He wished with all his heart that he could say no, but, just like always, the look in her eyes made him weak and he couldn’t ignore the sweet curve of her lips and the worried crease in her forehead and the way the humidity made the ends of her hair curl up.

           He shakily sighed and looked back to see if Barbara was coming back up front to cover the counter. In the bottom of the round window he could see her gray bun bopping towards them, so he conceded.

           “Okay, but I only have a minute.” He nodded, trying to sound confident.

           “That’s all I need.” She smiled, a hurt in her face. In some ways he hoped there was something else going on that she needed help with because he didn’t think he could stand her pulling him back and forth again. But, in other ways, he hoped nothing else was wrong because, as horrible as she’d been to him, he still loved her a lot and didn’t want anything to happen to her. That was sort of his problem. Still loving her despite all the stuff that’d happened.

           “Listen, Hazza, I know we’ve had some tough times. I just..” She sighed and looked up at him with a sad smile. Her mind was clearly distracted mid-thought as she reached for his long, curly fringe. Her fingers pushed it to the side and she chuckled. “You need a hair cut.”

           “I know.” He replied and couldn’t help but briefly join her laughter. It felt good to have her fingers so near his face again.

           She nostalgically laughed and pulled her hand back. “Yeah, you always say that, but then you never get it cut.” She eyed him playfully, though her lips fell again. The rest of her face soon followed, and her eyes looked down as she bit her lip. He thought she looked as if she might cry, but with her head bowed so low he couldn’t quite tell. “I miss you.” She finally spoke quietly, then looked up at him. “And I’m.. I’m sorry for all the stuff that happened. But I miss you, Haz, I really really do.”

           Harry’s mind reeled as his heart felt a million different emotions at one time. She seemed so sincere this time-- she really did. But.. was she? As much as he knew he shouldn’t, deep down he knew he really wished she was. And in that moment, despite all the things he knew, he couldn’t help but respond from the overwhelming emotion coming from his heart. He had to be honest with her.

           “I…” he swallowed, “I miss you too.”

           The tension in her face eased as she sighed. “Really? Oh, good, I’m so glad because I think we should really--”

           “But Bridge--” He stopped her. He knew what she was going to say. She said it every time. And every time before he’d listened and gotten hurt again and again and again. He didn’t have it in him to say no, but he knew he at least needed to get away from her to make a clear decision. “I really do miss you, but.. I can’t…I.. I need time.”

           She paused and looked surprised. “Oh, I.. okay.” She staggered.

           “I’ve just got to, you know, figure some stuff out. I just need to think this all over.” He shrugged, trying to sound positive. He was so confused he didn’t really know what he thought, only what he felt. And in that moment he felt like he still loved her. With every moment across from her it was getting worse, so he stood up quickly.

           “I’ve got to get back to work.” He mumbled uncomfortably. But, just as he was turning around, she caught his arm and pulled him back. Before he even knew what was happening, her lips were on his, and his knees were going weak under her touch. Why did it have to feel so good to be with her? For a moment he froze, his breath catching in his throat. Then the pull was too much and he was lost again.

           “Bridg… love..” He stammered, using every last fiber of his being to make himself pull away. His forehead rested against hers as she smiled. He couldn’t believe it was happening again. He needed to get away. “Love, I can’t.” He whispered as he shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose before spreading his fingers over his eyelids. “Not now.” He muttered and stumbled behind the counter and through the swinging door.

           “You okay, Harry?” Barbara asked as he hustled to the back door of the bakery. He needed air.

           “Fine.” He sniffed, but he knew she knew he wasn’t. And he knew she’d want to know what happened.

           But for now, he needed to be alone, needed to try and figure out why it always came out like this, why he always screwed up. And whether or not he should listen to Bridgette. His mind flicked through all of their problems-- all the other guys, all the lying and cheating and guilt trips. Was it worth it? Was she worth it? He was so confused and his heart hurt. Just when he finally thought he was over her, she came in and flustered him again. Maybe she  _had_ changed, maybe things could finally work out, maybe she really did miss him… and as he shrugged down to the cement steps, he knew he couldn’t deny the truth in his heart. He missed her too.


	9. I Want

           "What?! Harry, that's absolutely mental." Zayn's concerned voice bled into the phone.

           "I know, I know, I just.. I mean, she seemed really sincere this time and I can't handle feeling guilty anymore and--" Harry started to respond, sounding confused and hurt, but Zayn interrupted.

           "Mate, listen to yourself. You can't do this again. I thought you figured this all out last time.." Zayn shook his head and leaned his free arm against the wall of his hallway, his forehead resting on top of his shirt sleeve.

           "I thought I did too, it's just.. I still love her and I.. I'm just confused." Harry mumbled slowly.

           "Harry, you're crazy. This isn't the guy I know, okay? This girl has got you wrapped up in some weird manipulative stuff and you've got to put a stop to it." Zayn replied sternly, partly out of his own frustration at Harry's consistent relapses with Bridgette and partly because he knew Harry just needed some tough love. They both knew that's why he had called.. they both knew deep down Harry knew the right thing, but he needed someone else to say it.

           Harry sighed on the other end, and Zayn pursed his lips. He knew it was hard to hear.

           "Harry.." he started again, this time not quite as tersely. "You changed your whole world for her. More than once. And she still screwed you over. I'm sorry, mate, but you've got to move on."

           Silence consumed the line as Zayn waited for Harry's reply. If teaching in a public school had taught him anything, it had taught him patience. He'd wait as long as he needed.

           Eventually he heard a muffled sniff and he couldn't tell whether or not Harry was crying or if he'd just finally composed his thoughts enough enough to respond. He'd always been kind of an emotional guy-- at least as long as Zayn had known him-- so really either catalyst could have been possible. Zayn rather liked that about him though, liked how Harry seemed to maintain his thoughtfulness and sensitivity amidst all sorts of difficult life experiences-- the kinds that tend to harden people. Harry seemed to operate completely backwards sometimes, like the more hurt he faced the more vulnerable and open he became. Other people might have seen it as a weakness, but Zayn saw it for what it was, for what it really said about Harry and his genuine character. He respected him for it, and figured he could learn a thing or two from him in that way.

           A few more moments passed, and then a low breath. "I know, but.. I don't want to." Harry finally responded.

           Zayn sighed and leaned his back against the wall, an arm crossing underneath the other. He felt like they'd had this conversation a hundred times, but he still felt for Harry. His eyes slid to the floor and he nodded even though Harry couldn't see him.

           "I know. It's tough, mate."

           " _Really_ tough."

           Zayn half smiled at Harry's inflection. "Yeh, really tough." he affirmed. "But you know it's the right thing."

           "I know." Harry conceded, his voice low.

           "Then do the right thing, Harry." Zayn softly urged.

           Saura appeared at the end of the hallway and moved towards him with a smile, unaware of the conversation with Harry. "Ready to go?" She asked and slid an arm around Zayn, her lips meeting his scruffy jaw. His arm involuntarily mimicked hers, and he pulled her into his side without even thinking about it.

           "Yeah, one second." He responded in a whisper and turned his head back to his phone. "Haz, I've got to go, mate. You going to be okay?"

           "Yeah, yeah.. I'll be fine. Thanks, mate."

           Zayn paused for a second as he looked at Saura. She smiled back, but he saw her cheeks fall a bit when she percieved the concern in his eyes. If only Harry could find someone like her, someone who was honest and faithful and supportive. Harry was a good guy and deserved better. He deserved a Saura.

           Zayn's attention slipped back to his conversation. "You're going to do the right thing?" He confirmed. Harry was like a brother to him and he needed to know he wasn't going to do something stupid. Again.

           Harry took a few deep breaths in. Zayn could feel his hesitation turn into somber conviction. "Yeah. I am. I will... I will. Bye, Zayn."

           "Bye, mate. Stick to it."

           And with that, Zayn ended the call and his mind fought to separate his concern for Harry from his excitement over an evening with Saura.

           "Is he alright?" Saura asked with soft concern.

           "Eh. He'll be okay." Zayn tried to sound positive as he began to push down the hall to retrieve his coat. "Bridgette's at it again."

           "Bridgette? Again??" Saura followed him, her voice incredulous.

           Zayn unhooked his coat from the rack and turned with a sigh. "Yeah. I just wish he'd man up and finish it for good." He said gruffly. The more he thought about it the more frustrated he became.

           "You're only saying that because you're angry at Bridgette-- with good reason. But, Harry's in a tough position." Saura reminded him with a hand to his shoulder.

           He sighed again and looked at her, knowing she was right. As usual.

           "Do you know what?" he began slowly, his mind trailing as he thought out loud, but before he could finish his comment on Harry, his thoughts were distracted by a familiar look in her eye-- that caring, kind-hearted, down-to-earth kind of love for him and his problems that he'd never get used to seeing. He could never imagine a time when he wouldn't feel completely undeserving of her loyal love. It was a stark contrast to Harry's problems with Bridgette. "I think you're... you're gorgeous." He couldn't help but smile and she did the same.

           "Thanks, baby." She quietly laughed as he leaned down to kiss her.

           He smiled as his nose caught a wisp of her familiar perfume. "Let's go then, yeah?" He mumbled close to her lips. She gave him another short peck and nodded.

           "Sure."

           Zayn responded a quick, "Thank you." to the hostess as they pushed out the door of the restaurant.  Having dinner with Saura always did wonders to his heart. No matter what craziness was going on at work or with his family or with anything, really, it was nice to just forget about it for a while and spend time with her. She had a way of making him laugh so hard he simply just forgot about the rest of the world.

           She sighed contentedly and leaned the side of her face on his arm as he hooked his fingers through hers. The sidewalk was lit just like always by tall, black street lamps that housed fake, flickering flames. Maybe the gas effect was just an illusion, but it made the walk feel quaint all the same. Not that they needed the illumination since they'd walked that way enough times that Zayn thought he could probably do it in his sleep. The little park down the street was perfect for late night walks and had become a favorite after dinner attraction for he and Saura.

           "How's work?" She spoke up. He appreciated the fact that she'd waited until after dinner to bring up anything potentially stressful. She must have been able to tell he just needed a break.

           He looked down at her briefly before responding. "It's okay. I think the kids are ready for school to end. But things are alright."

           She nodded. "Good, that's good. Nothing else with the committee yet, then?"

           "Nah, seems to be okay for now." He shrugged nonchalantly. They were silent for a moment as they slowly sauntered on in the cool air.

           "Louis alright?" She quietly asked after a while.

           Zayn pondered the question for a moment. With everything going on at school and with Harry he'd sort of forgotten about his conversation with Louis the other day. He'd known him almost as long as he'd known Saura, and honestly they'd become pretty good friends. It helped that they saw each other nearly every day at school with their classrooms being just down the hall from each other. But in the last few months, Louis had seemed to drift away some and they hadn't gone out for drinks nearly as often. Zayn had wondered what might have been going on, and then when he'd finally caught up with him the other day and asked him how things were, he wasn't convinced of Louis' positive answer.

           “Uh.. I'm not sure, actually.” Zayn said vaguely. “Saw him the other day.. something seemed off.”

           “Hm.” Saura nodded, not pressing for more information. She paused again before thinking out loud. “Hard to believe you've been at Yellow Wood two years.”

           “Almost, yeah.” Zayn nodded as they turned onto the brick path of the park. “One more year at South Global and I'm not sure I'd still be teaching. Those kids...” he trailed.

           “Made you a great teacher.” Saura chuckled and squeezed his hand. His mouth turned up a little.

           “Maybe.” He mumbled a laugh, then thought for a second. “You know what else happened almost two years ago?”

           “You sorted out your terrible sweater situation?” She poked.

           “Hey, I'm an English teacher. I get to wear crazy sweaters if I want to.” Zayn corrected playfully. Saura chuckled at him and leaned into his side again.

           “Yeah, I know what happened.” She smiled. “You met me.”

           “Yeah I did.” Zayn grinned and knocked his shoulder against hers. He loved how even after almost two years their silly banter had never changed.

           “Two years..” She mused as they kept walking. He figured the time had flown by for her same as it had for him, though in some ways it felt like they'd been together forever.

           “We're practically an old married couple now.” Zayn joked and Saura laughed.

           “You're crazy, Zayn.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. But, as her chuckles subsided, Zayn noticed a sudden seriousness in her face. “Actually...” she paused and his stomach dropped. He knew what was coming and it was just what he'd been trying to avoid. “Maybe we should.. talk about that?” She carefully questioned.

           Zayn looked down as he walked and tried not to look suspicious. “About marriage?”

           “Well.. yeah..” Saura hesitated. He could tell she felt awkward bringing it up first.

           “Uh.. yeah.. we can talk about that..” He stammered, but he knew she could tell he didn't want to. Not then.

           She looked up at him, and when he didn't look back, she shrugged. “It's alright, baby, we don't have to talk about it.” She lifted a shoulder and dismissed the subject.

           Zayn thought her voice sounded hurt and he hated that. He wanted to explain everything right then, but he couldn't. He wanted to do things the right way, and that involved asking her dad first and buying a ring and surprising her with a proposal-- all of which he was already planning. But he couldn't tell her that. So instead he kissed the back of her hand clenched in his and kept walking without a word, hoping she wasn't mad or upset.  _Just wait, love, just wait._


	10. Everything About You

           "So you met her at Yellow Wood?" Niall asked, his eyes staying on the football game flickering on in front of them. Liam's feet were propped on the coffee table, a beer dangling from his hand over the side of the couch.

           "Uh, yeah." Liam nodded absentmindedly and took a swig from his bottle. Niall didn’t seem like his usual chatty self-- yelling at the players running back and forth on the screen and chattering away about last week’s game and wondering what Liam thought of the season so far and such.

           “Last friday?” Niall mumbled.

           Liam glanced at his younger brother, and what he saw made him sigh quietly before responding. He didn’t like seeing Niall with that hollow, distant stare, like he wasn’t even really watching the game, but was stuck somewhere else entirely. “Yeah, last Friday.” Liam confirmed, but left it at that.

           In the silence between them his mind drifted back to that day, and he couldn’t help but think about how normally his day had started.

 

           “You coming to the run today?” He'd asked Louis as he packed up his presentation from that morning.

           Louis had looked up from his cluttered desk. “Uh, no. Picking up Charlie.”

           “Oh, tell him I said, 'Hello.'” Liam had nodded, his back turned to Louis as he slid his laptop into its case.

           “I will.” Louis mumbled, his thoughts preoccupied by finally grading the one act plays his students had turned in weeks ago.

           “This class seemed more calm than last time. The mass of fourteen year old boys can be daunting if I'm honest.” Liam noted, setting his bag on one of the student's empty desks.

           “Yeah, we're working on it.” Louis had agreed.

           “Must be strange having such big age differences.” Liam looked up at Louis, but Louis' eyes stayed on the sheets in front of him, a red pen flicking on his thumb.

           “Eh, I've gotten used to it.” Louis had responded briefly. Liam nodded again, though he knew Louis wasn't watching. He honestly did think it must be difficult to teach so many different ages and classes, but at the time he had just been concerned for his friend. He'd seemed stressed and Liam hoped he could ask him about it. But that moment clearly wasn't the time, so he'd moved on.

           “Alright, well I'll see you later. Let's get drinks soon.” Liam commented as he lifted one bag to his shoulder and grabbed the other with his hand.

           “Yeah, mate.” Louis had agreed without breaking his concentration. Liam sighed and walked out the door. He'd thought it odd for Louis to be so short, but then again, maybe he had just been busy. He figured only seeing his kid on weekends must be pretty hard, and he knew Louis had plenty of things in his life to make him stressed, so he hadn't taken it personally.

 

           Then he'd squinted at the brightness of the day as he stepped through the sliding doors into the car park, and his whole day had changed. Sparks of sun reflected off the tops of the cars and despite the breeze he could feel warmth radiating from the asphalt. He remembered thinking how glad he was it had been a warm day for the race.

           As he'd approached his car, he noticed a woman attempting to lift several cases of bottled water from the boot of her car. He'd quickly slid his bags into his backseat and walked the short distance to her vehicle.

           “Here, let me help you.” He'd offered and moved to pick up all three cases, not at all expecting what was about to come.

           “Oh, you don't have to, you--” She'd started, but as he’d straightened with the cases in hand and smiled at her, she stopped. And so did he.

           Her face had been lightly tanned, blonde hair falling haphazardly out of her short ponytail. Her eyes were deep, as if they might have seen all sorts of love and hurt, but he rather liked that. Just from a moments glance he'd thought her interesting and entirely beautiful... which was unusual for him. Yeah, he appreciated attractive women, but it wasn't often that they were so confusedly intriguing, like maybe they'd already lived a hundred lives and he'd just come in on the hundred and first. One side of her mouth turned up slightly as she considered his polite gesture.

           “Thank you...” She'd paused with a budding smile.

           “Liam.” He answered her unspoken question and nodded.

           “Rosie.” She responded in kind as they turned to walk towards the school.

           “Are these for the race today?” He'd asked as they began to walk.

           “Uh, yeah, they are actually. Are you going?” She asked politely.

           “I am. Running, actually. This is a great school, I try to support it when I can.” He'd smiled. “Are you?”

           “Running? No, not this year. They needed me to volunteer at the water tent. … Obviously.” She nodded in the direction of the bottles and they had both chuckled. “You're a volunteer, then?”

           “Yeah,” He nodded. “Usually in the classrooms-- I'm a firefighter by trade-- but, like I said, I try to help out whenever I can. Besides, the Yellow Wood 5K Fundraiser is not an event to miss. Bouncy castles and everything.” He smiled with twinkling eyes and she laughed.

           “Well, that is true..” She nodded in amusement, then paused. “Wait.. oh, Firefighter Liam. Yeah, I've heard the kids talk about you before. They like you a lot.” She looked at him with a small smile.

           “Well I like them a lot.” He'd smiled back as the doors slid open in front of them.

           She showed him where to set the cases down just inside the front lobby door. “I'll get the kitchen staff to get them from here when I come back to set up later.” She smiled and thanked him for his help.

           “Of course.” Liam insisted. “Any time.” His eyes met hers and they both paused for a moment, just sort of looking and smiling and having a small, shy conversation with their eyes. Looking back, he did think it was a bit odd that it happened with a stranger, but he couldn’t remember feeling uncomfortable in the moment. “Listen...” he'd started again. “If you need any extra hands setting up, I'd be happy to help.”

           To his happiness, her face seemed to brighten. “Oh, okay, sure.” She smiled again. “I'm just a volunteer too, but I'll let Amanda know.”

           Liam reached in his back pocket and pulled a worn piece of card stock out of his wallet. “Here's my card-- my cell number is down there. I'm off today, so feel free to call if you guys need help.”

           “Great.” She'd taken the card and reached her hand out towards him. “Thank you, Liam.”

           He'd taken it and given it a firm shake to accompany his smile. “You're welcome.”

 

           And she had called and he had helped and it turned out to be the best day he'd had in a long time. After all the stuff that had happened at work he'd been glad to have a day of fun, surrounded by the kids he loved and a beautiful woman who seemed to be just as intrigued by him as he was her. They seemed to get on surprisingly well and made a great team for setting up. Without even trying they’d built an endearing feeling of camaraderie, and it didn’t take long for her to feel comfortable calling him over to help move tables or lift speakers or give an opinion on whether or not the finish line ribbon should be blue or yellow, all the while laughing and carrying on with him like they were kids again.

           Then, every time he'd circled the track during the race he'd made sure to pick her out of the line of hands holding water bottles out. And she always seemed to be there ready to smile back and cheer him on for another lap. He wasn't sure if his heart swelled more at the sound of the little voices cheering for "Fider Fider Lidam!!" or the sound of the laugh in her throat that resulted. It was almost unnatural how quickly they had clicked and he just liked being around her. So he'd pulled her with him during the last lap and forced her to jog along side him, despite her flirty protests.

           "No, I can't! You're winning, don't be slowed down by me." She'd laughed as his sweaty hands pulled her from the water tent.

           "We can still win!" He'd encouraged and laughed with her, though he no longer cared about the clock, no matter how slow they had to go. He was happy to have spent the afternoon helping set up with her and the rest of the volunteers and felt she should be a part of his race if he'd been a part of her busy afternoon.

           And then she'd surprised him by pushing on ahead of him and teasing him that he couldn't keep up.

           "Hey, I've just run this entire thing. This is your first lap!" He'd playfully called, kicking into a run to catch up with her. She'd just giggled and tipped her shoulder.

           "Well, you're a firefighter, aren't you? Keep up."

           Her response made him grin as they circled the first turn and pressed on.

 

           The cheers of the students rang in their ears as they approached the finish line. Just as they reached the cheering crowds lining the finish, Rosie mischievously sped up in front of him.

           "Oh no you don't.." Liam laughed to himself and caught her hips, swinging her to the side. She squealed and tried to bat his arms away to get back in front of him, fighting to break the ribbon first. He shuffled in front of her, trying to hold her back as he kept moving forward. She rolled out of his grip and nearly made it to the checkered ribbon, but he caught her wrist and pulled her back. And it very nearly let him break through first, but her captured hand curled around his wrist and she started tugging him backwards with silly laughter.

           "Oh my gosh, seriously?" He chuckled and turned his head towards her, now completely stopped in front of the finish line. His eyes looked down the track and saw another runner closing in on them. "Fine." He’d laughed and begun muscling forward, intent on finishing first despite her plays. Sweat ran down his face and his muscles flexed as he easily tugged her with him towards the finish line, his other arm quickly lifting her body as he stepped through the ribbon just before the other runner caught up. They both erupted into heavy-breathed laughter as the crowd happily cheered.

           But then they'd looked at each other and discovered they were much closer than they thought and suddenly Liam had become very aware of how his hands were still loosely draped around her frame and how little beads of sweat lined her forehead and how close her lips were to his. In that moment he'd forgotten about all the eyes fixed on them because they only eyes he was concerned about were hers and how they looked deep and full and inviting, but her flirty confidence didn’t mask a streak of fear. He hadn’t known why, but for some reason that made her all the more beautiful to him. For a split second he thought he’d seen right into her heart, and from that experience, he’d known one thing for sure-- he wanted to see more.

 

           "So the date went well, I guess." Niall spoke up again, breaking his thoughts.

           Liam blinked and glanced over at him briefly. "Yeah.. yeah it went pretty well." He responded in a low voice before sipping his drink again. Honestly, it had gone way better than "pretty well," but with everything that had happened with Bre, he didn't have the heart to tell Niall how beautiful Rosie had looked or how interesting their conversations had been or how hard they had laughed at absolutely nothing because they just seemed to get on so well. Somehow everything just seemed to fit perfectly between the two of them, which is exactly why he’d called her the day after the race and asked her out, she’d said yes, and they’d had such an unusually perfect first date.

           Liam looked back over at Niall, who was again preoccupied with the game-- or, at least, he appeared to be. Niall’s eyes were glazed over as he passively watched the players shuffle across the field. Eventually, he’d tell Niall all about Rosie, and eventually Niall would tell him all about Bre. But for that day, Liam knew Niall just needed him to be there-- no words, no explanations, no questions. Instead, all Niall wanted was his brother, a beer, and a good game of football.

 


	11. Same Mistakes

           Louis sighed shortly and shifted the phone at his ear. “Yeah, mate, I’m fine.”

           Zayn was efficient in his words as always, but Louis could tell he was concerned because he pressed him more than usual. “Everything’s fine with Charlie?”

           “Yeah, everything’s fine. Actually I’m on my way to his birthday party, so I have to go.” Louis tried not to be short, failing more than he realized.

           “Okay, mate. Let me know if you need anything.” Zayn conceded, and it made Louis angry that he didn’t sound convinced.

           “I’m fine, Zayn. Bye.” He spat quietly and ended the conversation, his phone thrown to the passenger’s seat. Why did everyone seem so concerned about him all the sudden? He was fine. Totally fine.

           His jaw clenched as his in-law’s street came into view. One more turn and he’d be in the middle of it all again. The closer he got, the more tense he felt. Maybe one more trip around the block-- just one more trip to convince himself that he _was_  fine. Because he was, wasn’t he?

           He circled the block for the third time, thinking of what had happened the last time he’d seen her. If he was being honest, it had terrified him. That wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to feel like that about her ever again. And he certainly didn’t enjoy the panic that overtook him-- shortening his breath and making him anxious in all the worst ways.

           Letter boxes ticked by as he rolled his tongue in his mouth. He’d spent the last few weeks reminding himself of every reason why they didn’t work, trying to drown out the beautiful memories with which his mind had continued to plague him.  _She isn’t like that anymore,_  he’d tried to tell himself. But, he kept coming back to the same thing every time: He missed her. He loved her. And he was insanely jealous over her.

           “Dad!” Charlie yipped excitedly and ran to link himself onto Louis’ leg, just like he’d done since he was a wee lad.

           Louis pretended to have been attacked, howling as he drug his foot across the floor with Charlie’s little body dangling off. They both were in fits of laughter as Louis reached down to loosen Charlie’s grip with a tickle.

           “Happy birthday, bub.” he giggled into his ear as Charlie scooted off his leg. “Now give me a proper cuddle.”

           Charlie’s arms wrapped around Louis’ lowered neck, and Louis pulled him up as he stood straight again. With their heads level and his arms around him, Louis looked Charlie in the eye and gave him a mischievous grin.

           “Did you open your presents yet?” he asked and Charlie giggled.

           “No, dad, not yeeett.” Charlie replied, still giggling. “Mum says we have to eat first.”

           “Eat first?! Presents are way more important than  _eating_.” Louis teased and walked further into the house with Charlie on his hip. “Where are they at? Your presents?”

           “The living room, I think!” Charlie responded, his excitement rising.

           Louis hauled the boy through the foyer into the living room, stopping in front of the fireplace to let Charlie down. A dozen brightly colored packages lay strewn over the white bricks, strung up with matching bows that seemed to be as tight as the muscles in Louis’ neck.

           “Can I open one?” Charlie looked up at his dad, his eyes holding all sorts of giggles and laughs.

           Louis looked over his shoulder, pretending to be on the lookout for Charlie’s grandparents and mum. “Better hurry,” he answered with a wink.

           But, before Charlie could decide which box to lay hands on first, a booming voice called out from the kitchen.

           “Charlie, come help with the table setting like your grandmum asked.” His grandfather called. Hearing his heavy footsteps coming closer made Charlie squeak a laugh and hide behind Louis’ legs.

           Louis’ hand ruffled his son’s fluffy hair as his grandfather appeared in the room.

           “Louis.” He nodded shortly, clearly a bit surprised to see his ex son-in-law in his living room, though he’d no doubt been told Louis was coming. On top of that, Louis could tell he was annoyed at his lax arrival.

           “Frank.” he nodded back, his lips pressed firmly together. He’d never really liked the guy because, honestly, the guy had never really liked him. Through dating, engagement, and marriage, Frank had always looked down on Louis, and Louis couldn’t stand it. And then after...  _everything else_  that had happened, well.. whenever Frank was around, it all just felt like one big game of “I told you so.”

           “You alright?” Frank asked, his painted geniality rubbing Louis the wrong way, as it always had.

           “Fine, and yourself?” He responded with equally fake politeness.

           “Fine.” Frank responded. The air was thick with the mutual understanding that the only reason they tried at all was for Charlie. “Come on, Charlie, let’s go.” Frank waved the boy towards him. “Ladies are out back.” he nodded at Louis before turning on his heels and following after Charlie’s excited dashes.

           Louis made his way towards the back deck, a heavy sigh leaving his nose once he was sure he was out of earshot.

           “Louis!” Charlie’s grandmother called affectionately as she slid open the glass door.

           “Stacey.” he gave a small smile, aggravated as he was, and pecked her cheek in greeting.

           “Good to see you, love. How are things? Work going alright?” she asked as she briefly held his arms before moving past him.

           “Yeah, things are fine, yeah. Thanks,” he spoke quietly as she scuttled off to the kitchen again.

           Louis paused in the doorway and looked across the patio to his wife. Her hair was up with only a few stray pieces falling around her face, her hands busied flipping patties on the grill, her thoughts obviously too engaged to notice he was there. He chewed the corner of his mouth for a moment before walking closer.

           “Black bean burgers again, eh? You need to feed our boy some meat, or else he’ll never become a man.” he spoke, trying to make his voice upbeat and joking. She looked up at him with a glare, and he attempted a smile.

           “What do you want, Lou?” she stated more than asked, her face tight and wrinkled a bit in annoyance.

           “Just saying, ‘hi.’” he tried to cover up his frown with a shrug. She looked at him suspiciously and shook her head before returning her gaze to the patties sizzling in front of her.

           “You never ‘just say hi,’” she sighed. “There’s always something.”

           Louis crossed his arms and let the sizzling take up the silence for a moment. His eyes drifted to the flames and went out of focus as his thoughts came in. It felt like just yesterday she’d have laughed at his teasing. “Sorry.” he mumbled, more hurt by her words than usual. He didn’t like the vulnerable place he was heading, but he couldn’t help it.

           A few moments more passed before she glanced over at his hovering presence and spoke up again. “Seriously, Lou, what is it? What do you want?”

           Louis raised a hand to the side of his face and looked at the ground, struggling to sort out his thoughts quickly enough to say them. “I, uh.. I was just thinking that maybe… um, well I think--”

           “Just say it, okay? The burgers are almost done, I don’t have time for this.”

           Louis stared at her for a moment before continuing. “Alright, alright,” he defended. “Could we, eh… could we meet sometime? Like tonight maybe?”

           “Meet?”

           “Yeah, I just thought it’d be good to, ehm, talk. Maybe catch up a little. Talk about Charlie,” he shrugged, trying to appear casual. “It’s just been.. it’s been a long time since we’ve had a proper chat.”

           She paused her flipping to stare at him, her animosity falling just enough to show confusion. “I, uh.. I can’t tonight,” she gave a brief head nod and looked back down at the grill.

           “Oh, right. Sure, okay. You got a date or something?” He fiddled with the peeling label on the end of the grill, way more curious about her excursions than he should have been.

           “Um. Yes, actually,” she nodded tersely, and he knew she could feel the walls rising too.

           “Jeffrey?”

           “No. Not Jeffrey,” she gave him a side glare.

 _Not_  Jeffrey? What happened to Jeffrey? Sure, he didn’t like the guy-- at all-- but at least he knew who Jeffrey was, knew what he did and what he looked like and how painfully smart he sounded.

           “Someone else, then?” he raised his eyebrows, but by the look in her eyes he could tell she knew exactly what he was doing.

           “Lou,” she stopped him and gave a look he’d grown too used to seeing.

           “Sorry,” he tried not to sass and raised his hands in surrender. “I just, uh..” Louis trailed as his mind suddenly became one big jumbled mess of love and anger and too many nights of trying to convince himself he was okay. “You know what? Screw this,” he spat and his hands found his hips as he paced away, then back towards her. “Do you know what? This is ridiculous.”

           “Not now, Louis,” she groaned.

           “No, yes now,” he corrected, trying to keep his tone even. “Do you know what I’ve been trying to convince myself of all week? That we’re done-- over-- forever. That this--” he bit, waving his hand between the two of them, “--this won’t work. Can’t work. Because ever since I saw you with  _Jeffrey_  I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop thinking about you and your beautiful face and how I used to be able to take it in my hands and call it my own. I can’t stop thinking about all of our memories and our family and... and Charlie. I’ve tried to make it all stop and stop thinking about you because I thought it was stupid, thought it was just some dumb jealousy thing that I’d get over. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop! And... now I don’t think I want to.”

           “Louis, I can’t do this right now,” she said as she put a hand to her forehead.

           “Love, will you just listen for a second--”

           “No, Louis! No, I will not listen for a second!” she rose her voice, her terse frustration breaking out more quickly than Louis was used to and catching him by surprise. “I can’t listen for a second because you used all of your seconds up when you didn’t show up for my sister’s engagement party, when you said, ‘Oh, no problem, love, I’ll handle Charlie’s science fair project,’ and never thought about it again, when you refused to get rid of that stupid motorcycle and spent the entire year oogling over that thing in the garage instead of helping me raise our son! So no, I cannot listen for a second. You’ve wasted eight years of my life, you’re not wasting anymore.”

           Louis’ teeth gripped his bottom lip as he breathed deeply for a moment, processing what she’d just said. He couldn’t distinguish his anger from his hurt, but he did know one thing for certain. And for the sake of that one thing, he tried not to respond in spitting fury like he usually did. His voice was starting to grow more tense, but he tried to keep it level. “I know we have issues, love. But the more I think about it, the more I think--” his voice rose as she shook her head, his tone begging her to listen, “--we can work through this-- for us, for Charlie! I think if we just give it time we could be stronger than when this all star--”

           “Louis, listen to yourself. This is crazy! You’re crazy. No, this can’t work.”

           “Just let me finish--” his voice rose more as his anger bubbled up.

           “No, Lou, you just need to stop. Just stop!” she yelled back at him, waving the spatula in her hand.

           “So I can’t even talk to you anymore, is that it?” he yelled and flung a finger in her face.

           “No! No you cannot. I don’t want to hear what you have to say, and I don’t want you here to ruin Charlie’s  _birthday!_ ”

           “Dad?? Dad, look!! Grandmum gave me a--”

           “Shut UP, Charlie!” Louis shouted without thinking, the little voice immediately silencing, and the small, round face ashamedly slipping back into the house. Louis put a hand to his face, immediately regretting his outburst at his son. He knew he was only making things worse, no matter how hard he tried to reverse it all.

           “I’m sorry, love, I shouldn’t have...” he stopped mid-sentence, not even able to finish because he felt so ashamed to have treated Charlie that way. When he uncovered his face, she looked up at him, and the fear in her eyes reflected the fear in his. The tension in the air felt uncomfortable and he wasn’t sure how to handle his intense anxiety and depressing guilt as he watched her eyes begin to glisten.

           “All I wanted to say was.. I still love you. I still love you.” He muttered, shaking his head and looking towards the ground. It wasn’t at all how he intended for it to happen, but he’d said it all the same.

           He looked back at his wife. She held her lips in as she attempted not to cry.

           “Well you’ve not done a very good job of it.” She barely spoke between quivering lips. She turned quickly to go back in the house just as her dad appeared in the doorway.

           “Louis, I think it’s time for you to go.”

           He glared hard at the man for a moment, but knowing he didn’t have any fight left in him, he nodded and began to walk towards him.

           “And I don’t want you back here ever again.” Frank said quietly enough that Charlie wouldn’t overhear, but gruffly enough that it made Louis’ insides boil.

           Louis licked his teeth as he slid past him on his way inside. He literally could not imagine a worse ending to this scenario he’d played out over and over again in his mind.

           “Are you leaving, dad?” Charlie intercepted Louis at the front door. Louis’ eyes pricked with a few tears when he saw the disappointment and fear on Charlie’s face. The boy knew it was going to be another ruined holiday-- and his _birthday_  at that. Louis knelt down in front of him and put a hand on his shoulder.

           “Something’s come up. I’m sorry, bub.” he responded, trying to keep his voice light and even. He didn’t like the way Charlie looked at him, because it made him realize Charlie was getting old enough to realize that something hadn’t come up at all.

           “Okay, dad, it’s okay. I’ll see you next weekend and I can save some cake cause I know it’s your favorite,” he spoke and blinked rapidly, clearly fighting back tears.

           “Would you do that for me, bub?” Louis nodded, sharing a moment he wouldn’t soon forget, and pulled his son into a hug. “Would you do that?”

           “Yeah, I will.”

           “Good lad.” Louis nodded again, his jaw locked and lips pressed together even tighter than before. There was no way he’d let his tears fall until he was far away from his boy. He couldn’t let him down like that. He couldn’t--

           “I love you, daddy.” Charlie whispered and clung tighter to his chest, and in that moment Louis’ heart felt like it had shattered into a million pieces, the shards sharp and jagged and rubbing against every raw spot from the last eight years.

           “I love you too, Charlie. I love you too.”


	12. Save You Tonight

           Niall swung his legs over the side of his bed and grunted in annoyance. A few drips of sweat formed at the base of his bare back as he threw the covers off and stood up, shuffling as quietly as he could to his desk.

           He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help it. He’d laid awake and unable to sleep for the past week because his mind couldn’t be made to think of anything or anyone else. He needed to know.

           It felt so natural to type her name into the search box because he’d done it hundreds of times before. But it was different back then. Before, he’d have been going to leave her a little message in her inbox, post a silly picture on her wall, or make (another) oogling comment on her profile picture telling her just how beautiful he thought she was. But this time he was going only as a ghost and a stranger. A ghost who left no trail behind, and a stranger who couldn’t help but peer into her life from afar, no matter how many times Harry had reminded him how bad an idea it was.

           He didn’t have to scroll far to see her. His hand held the side of his face, tense and uncomfortable. He felt guilty for it, but he didn’t like to see her looking so happy-- already out partying with friends like their relationship had never happened. His eyes squinted as he clicked on the latest picture posted. Was that…

           He took in a sharp breath as he realized who was in the picture with her. Niall knew the guy’s face from a mile away, only because pretty much everyone in the entire school did as well. He was infamous for the way he treated girls, and Niall had seen it first hand. No one should ever treat women that way, especially not his Bre.

           His eyes glanced to when the photo was posted, and when he saw that it was just fifteen minutes old, his heart began to constrict in his chest. Sure, she dumped him. But, he couldn’t just let this happen to her, could he? Maybe she didn’t know the guy’s reputation, or maybe she was too drunk to remember. Even though she’d ripped him raw, he couldn’t bear to watch someone else do the same to her. As his early morning brain clouded through thoughts, he could decide only one thing: he had to protect her.

 

           “Bre-- Bre!” He called through the smoky crowd, knowing from the location attached to the picture just where to find her. Bodies smashed up against him as he pushed through, and by the smell of it, he thought they must be dripping alcohol rather than sweat.

           “Eh-- mate! You seen a girl with blonde hair around here recently?” he yelled over the throbbing music to the bartender. After a quick look down the length of the counter he’d realized she was no longer where the picture had been snapped.

           “I see a lot of ‘em.” The bartender grinned back as he slapped a towel over his shoulder.

           “Listen, she was wearing a red dress and was with Tom Jameson. You seen her?” Niall pressed impatiently.

           “You seem a little flustered, man. Why dontcha sit down for a drink and I’ll tell ya where I’ve seen her after you’ve calmed down a wee bit.” He laughed, his rude poking making Niall clench his teeth.

           “Just tell me where she is, mate.” Niall called, his anger and panic swirling into one hard stare.

           “Alright, alright. Saw ‘em go out back.” The bartender nodded towards the emergency exit.

           Niall thudded his way towards the door at the back of the club, heart beating faster with every step. He feared what Tom was going to do-- or was doing-- to her, and wondered if he’d slipped something in her drink or merely used his deceiving charm. Niall’s stomach crushed inside of him, his heavy breathing laboring in his own ears. He hoped with everything in him that he hadn’t left with her yet.

           The door busted out in front of him as he slammed through into the damp alley. Just past the dumpster he spotted them both sidled up next to the brick wall-- her giggles only getting louder the further in Tom pressed.

           “Bre!” Niall called, his voice thick with concern.

           Her giggles quieted as Tom turned his head towards Niall.

           “Who’s that, baby?” Tom’s words slurred. Bre looked from behind him.

           “Niall?! What-- what are you--” She tried to be angry, but her words were muddy and thick.

           “Niall? Your ex?” Tom furrowed his brow in confusion as Niall walked closer.

           “Yeah, he’s my ex-- Niall what are you doing here?” She spit at him, her head bobbing to the side.

           “I can’t let him do this to you, Bre. I won’t let him.” Niall tried to keep his voice calm. He didn’t want a fight, he just wanted her safe.

           “Can’t let me do what?” Tom gave him a sly grin and pulled Bre tighter, to which she gasped a giggle.

           “Tom, don’t.” Niall tried to convince him. “Go find someone else, just not her.”

           “What, you still love her or something, bro?” Tom swayed unsteadily, gripping Bre like a cheap prize from the fair.

           Niall’s jaw tightened, and he looked up the alley, trying to harbor his anger. “Yeah, bro, I do. Let her go.”

            “Niall, you can’t just do this… we’re not together anymore. I know you’re all ‘save the whales’ but seriously this is ridiculous.” Bre laughed, clearly too drunk-- or drugged-- to know what she was saying.

           “Seriously, bro, she’s mine now.” Tom cackled over his shoulder as he shoved Bre against the wall again. “Leave us alone.”

           And then in a rush of anger, fear, and jealousy, Niall snapped. With fistfuls of Tom’s jacket he pulled back as hard as he could, putting the hammered playboy off-balance.

           “Whoa, bro, whoa.” Tom muttered angrily as he stumbled back.

           “ _Niall! Stop!_ ” Bre shrieked as Tom tried to right himself enough to throw a punch at Niall.

           “It’s alright, babe.” Niall spoke calmly to Bre, knowing her drunken confusion.

           “Bro, you do not want to do this with me.” Tom boasted, still staggering. Niall shook his head at the sorry mess in front of him, knowing he was too smashed to put up a fight.

           “I think I do.” Niall stared hard at him and firmly planted himself between Tom and Bre, his fists curling in caution.

           Tom’s arm sloppily swung, but Niall easily deflected, catching Tom’s wrist and slamming him against the alley wall. Tom’s cheek met the rough brick and his body squirmed in unexpected pain as Niall's forearm grinded him into the wall.

           “Bro-- bro--” Tom called out, his anger quickly being replaced with pain. Niall could see the fear in his darkened eyes-- Tom knew his drunken stupor was no match for Niall’s sober anger.

           “Alright, bro, fine. Fine!” Tom conceded, a whimper not so far off.

           Niall breathed in deeply, working to settle his fury. In frustration, he threw Tom out of his grip, knowing that if he’d held him there a second longer he might do things he’d regret.

           “She wasn’t worth it anyway.” Tom grumbled, staggering to find his footing and brushing a hand to his scratched face.

           Niall’s mind steeped hotter than it had all night, and it took everything in him not to crush the guy’s face like a tin can. Not worth it? The thought made him bleed fury. “Come on, Bre.” He gripped his teeth together and spoke softly, putting his arm around her despite her defenseless protests. He knew he needed to get out of the situation before things digressed further.

           As they walked into the empty street and Niall hailed a cab, Bre’s objections soon turned into silly questions and dumb conversation which soon turned into hard sleep and soft, alcohol-stained breaths. Niall practically carried her the rest of the way to her apartment, but he didn’t mind. He didn’t mind her challenges because, despite his smoldering anger, her tiffs were frustratingly adorable. He didn’t mind her silly talk because it reminded him of when  _they_ used to get drunk together. He didn’t even mind having to lift her all the way up the three flights of stairs because that meant having her head on his chest and her arms around his neck and her life wrapped up in his-- just like it was supposed to be.

           What he did mind was the fact that she’d chosen Tom-- the guy who’d take advantage of her without another thought, the guy who’d go for weeks without calling her just because he didn’t feel like it, the guy who’d think she wasn’t  _worth it_. And maybe even more, he minded the fact that despite everything he’d done for her and everything he’d  _would_  do for her, she kept choosing to look away and ignore what was right in front of her. But, most of all... most of all he minded that no matter how hard he tried, he could never make the decision for her. No matter how many times he’d save her from compromising situations or sleazy guys or even just homework deadlines, he’d never be able to save the one thing he wanted most: her heart.


	13. Stole My Heart

           Harry knocked Niall’s outstretched foot as he reached for his jacket. “Barbara’s asked me to come help until closing, I’ll see you later.”

           “Sure, mate.” Niall mumbled from half-asleep attention.

           Harry chuckled lightly at Niall’s inability to stay awake, even on a Saturday. Not much of a party animal, that one.

           He pulled on his jacket and trotted down the stairwell, glad for the opportunity to get out. To be honest, he didn’t mind his job at the bakery-- in fact, he quite liked it, seeing as Barbara was the closest thing he had to a mother-figure away from home.  _And_  there were enough free scones to keep him happy for the rest of his life. And… and Diana. He quite liked the possibility of getting to see her. He smiled to himself as he met the brisk air with a brisk walk.

           The walk across campus always proved to stir up his mind, and as he took in the sun setting in a beautiful array of orange and pinks, he thought it was a nice accompaniment to his thoughts. He’d been thinking about what Zayn had said about Bridgette, and he’d known even before Zayn had said it that he was right. Even if in some twisted way his relationship with Bridgette had been beautiful, it was time to let  _it_  set.

           Harry shoved his hands in his coat pockets and kept walking. Just like the horizon as it met the burning sun, his heart felt seared-- no matter how right the decision had been. As the darkness had set around him, his only hope was fixing his thoughts on the break of day. Because he knew no matter how dark the night got, eventually dawn always brought a new day.

 

           “Hey, Barbara, how are ya, love?” Harry spoke as he yanked his apron off the rack and continued in from the back door.

           “Aye, Harry, thanks for coming in.” Barbara smiled, but Harry could tell she was exhausted.

           “Can I fix you a cuppa?” He asked and gave her a quick peck to the cheek. He didn’t wait for an answer to keep moving towards the front of the shop, intent on taking over so Barbara could have a break.

           “Good lad.” She called affectionately as he pushed through the door to the cafe proper.

           His hands immediately busied themselves, mind on autopilot as he snagged one of Barbara’s favorite teas and reached for the hot water. He only paused when he looked up briefly to check the line and found himself staring at Diana instead.  _She’s here!_  He bubbled on the inside, confused at his equal responses of excitement and terror. The spoon in his hand slowly slid into the steeping tea as a smile slid onto his face. His fingers swirled the utensil in slow circles, but his mind moved much more quickly.

           Unlike usual, she appeared to be out with friends-- still studying, but with a lot more laughing and poking and general girliness. He liked to see her interacting with others-- mainly because it meant he got to see her smile and giggle and throw her face into her hands every few minutes. Based on the amount of chortles coming from their table, he wasn’t sure how much studying was actually transpiring, but at least they had their textbooks open. It was more than he could say for his weekend.

           Her eyes danced from friend to friend, just like his mind did from thought to thought. It wasn’t so hard for him to imagine her laughing at  _him_  that way, or to imagine her wrapped up in his arms under the stars. Maybe it was just his own cheesiness coming out, but he couldn’t help but think she looked like the kind of girl that would enjoy stargazing until the wee hours of the morning with enough words to fill a lifetime of novels and nothing for warmth except each other. In fact, he thought he’d quite like to find out if she really was that kind of girl or not, because it’d be a shame to waste the opportunity of such a perfectly chilly night. He thought for a moment about where the best place on campus to stargaze might be, but then decided they’d be better off leaving to find somewhere with less light pollution. Otherwise, their chances of seeing a shooting star would be pretty low and that wouldn’t be any good. Unless, of course, they managed to get on a rooftop somewhere, but he was pretty sure they were all locked. Except maybe the Coxwell building because--

           For a moment he forgot they didn’t even really know each other outside of his own imagination, but the giggling pointing coming from her friends made reality suddenly crash back into focus. Were they… were they pointing at him? His hand froze mid-stir as he realized what was happening, but his mind was too late. There was no time to escape.

           Diana followed the flirty nudgings of her friends and quickly turned in her chair, her eyes searching for Harry. His jaw locked in embarrassment as their eyes met and he realized how long he must have been idly staring at her.

           “Shoot. _Shoot_.” He muttered to himself as he tried to look busy, but knocked the mug in his hands off balance in the process. He spazzed to steady the ceramic, and reached for a handful of napkins before tripping backwards on a broom. His cheeks felt instantly red-- something that never really happened to him-- and when he looked up to see her giggling at him, he panicked and dropped below the counter.

           When his bum hit the floor and his knees popped up in front of him, he couldn’t help but already laugh at his own stupidity. “Stupid, stupid,  _stupid,_ ” he grinned at himself and put a hand to his forehead, unable to tell his embarrassment from his giggly admiration. He knew his childish response to her was dumb, but he couldn’t help it. With that one look he’d realized just how far gone he was.

            “Harry? Harry, lad, what are you doing...” Barbara’s pleasantly annoyed tone made Harry jump. 

           “What? What am I.. I’m.. I just needed to, um..” Harry stuttered and scrambled his limbs. “... get this bowl.” He grinned sheepishly as he grabbed at the random object and stood up. Barbara didn’t look convinced.

           “Seriously, Harry?” She shook her head in loving dismissal.

           Harry flashed a dimple at her and closed in on the short woman, his arms wrapping around her flour-dusted blouse. “I love yoouuu..” He drawled, trying to distract from the awkward moment before. It seemed to work, just like always.

           “Get back to work, you nutter.” Barbara gave a sarcastic giggle and pinched his bum, making him yelp. He appreciated that she chose to overlook his quirkier moments.

           “Okay, okay, back to work.” He conceded, rubbing the pain off. “Your tea’s on the counter, boss.”

           “Harry, how many times do I have to tell you to not call me boss?” Barbara glared at him as she took her tea and headed for the back again.

           “Sorry, boss!” He called after her as she disappeared through the door.

           "HARRY!” He heard her yell and it made him giggle, pleased with himself.

           After that, Harry had been too embarrassed to look in Diana’s direction for quite some time, so instead he busied himself with refilling every napkin tin and filling orders as quickly as humanly possible and not allowing Barbara to help him with  _anything_. He needed all the distraction he could get.

           But then, after a while, he noticed her friends slowly starting to trickle out as the night wore on. Eventually, it was just her-- well, just her and some creepy guy across the room-- and because of that, Harry began to feel a little more confident in stealing small glances over at her here and there. He’d liked seeing her laugh and carry on with her friends, but he liked this side too-- quiet, pensive, and a little sleepy. He’d noticed her trying to hold in a yawn more than once and he liked the way her nose crinkled up and she smashed her eyelashes together when she did.

           He enjoyed having those small things to notice about her as he did his usual cleaning-- the way she held in her yawns and twisted her hair as she read and gave a tired sigh every few minutes, for instance. Because of that, soon his studies turned from quick glances to steady stares to long, unashamed drinks. So much so that he didn’t even mind when she finally noticed and looked across the bakery at him. Instead of freaking out and knocking over three chairs in his embarrassment, he simply paused his mopping and waved. She smiled quickly before turning back to her work, clearly a little embarrassed herself.

           She seemed to notice that he’d just kept watching, but even knowing it might be sort of creepy, he just couldn’t help himself. When she looked up again, he quickly averted his eyes back to his mop, but he knew his busts of little chuckles gave him away. She seemed to feel amused and unsure at the same time, both outing themselves in a shy giggle. He didn’t expect just how good it would feel to have her laughing at his expense, but, boy, did it feel good. Too good. And sure, It wasn’t exactly how he’d imagined, but maybe that was why he knew he couldn’t settle for shy giggles.

           Instead, he held up a finger for her to wait, and jogged awkwardly behind the counter, then gradually disappeared behind it like he was walking down stairs. It was dumb and cheesy, but the fact that he heard an out loud laugh coming from her direction made it worth all the dumbness and cheesiness in the world. He popped up from behind the counter with a goofy grin on his face, his limbs in a “ta da!” posture. She gave a whimpering look and mimed fake applause. He liked so  _very_  much that she was playing along.

           So again, he held up his finger and enjoyed her pretend look of intrigue. Showing off something he’d done thousands of times while waiting around in the back for something to do, Harry began balancing mugs one on top of the other in a rather reckless fashion.

           “HARRY. Not the mugs again, lad! You’ve already broken three this week.” Barbara chided when she appeared in the doorway with a tub of freshly washed plates, spooking Harry again.

           “Sorry, sorry..” Harry mumbled after he jumped and rushed to put them down. Though he was genuinely embarrassed  _again_ , the sound of Diana’s cackles made him have to fight to keep a grin off his face.

           “Put this away, will ya?” Barbara nodded before disappearing again.

           When she was out of sight, he looked down at the plates and grinned wildly, shaking his head in a chuckle. How on earth was it that he was so  _un_ -smooth with the one girl he wanted so desperately to be smooth for? He could only hope she found it in some way attractive-- you know, clumsy or cute or  _something_.

           After unloading the dishes, he went back to his mopping, conveniently passing Diana's table several times-- each time peering further at what she was studying. She must have noticed because by the third time he passed she looked up just as he was commenting on her studies.

           “African-American literature during late 1930’s Germany?” He guessed with a hopeful look. She squinted her eyes and shook her head.

           “No, no… not exactly. Environmental biology. So.” She corrected with a shrug. They both held in little laughs as he went back to mopping.

           “Ah. I was close though.” He called over his shoulder.

           “So close.” He heard her mumble sarcastically, and it made the scarred insides of his heart start to peel away in silent giggles.

           Closer to closing time, he bopped to her table again, this time with a warmed apple turnover. It made him happy that he knew her favorite pastry, even if it was _the_  only thing he really knew about her-- aside from her love of cafe lattes anyway. He slid it onto the table beside her, pushing it a little closer when she didn’t look up immediately. She glanced to plate, but not at him, so he nudged it even closer. Her ensuing smile made him chuckle. She looked up at the sound.

           “Harry, I didn’t order a pastry.” She said with furrowed, but amused brows.

 _Harry._  She remembered his name! Why was that so exciting? He knew it shouldn’t have been nearly as exciting and wonderful and altogether fantastic as that, and it  _certainly_  shouldn’t have made him want to squeal like a girl, but he almost couldn’t hide his bursting pride because, well, it did.

           “Weeellll..” he droned over his buzzing thoughts. “You know. I know you like them. This one’s on the house.” He rubbed his lips together, again trying not to give away his boyish crush. She smiled at his thoughtfulness for a brief moment, but then he’d continued and stuffed his foot in his mouth, as per the usual with her. “I mean, we throw them all out at the end of the night anyway, so.”

           Diana’s smile quickly turned into a quirking head tilt.

           “I MEAN.. nooo, no no. This one’s just for you regardless. Obviously. Umm.. ” He shook his head as his big, awkward hands tried to help him explain. “Oh, Harry..” He mumbled under his breath, but her muffled chuckles made his dimples appear again from behind his masking hand.

           “Do you want to sit?” She asked, clearly trying to be polite after all of his obnoxious attempts.

           He considered for a moment, because if he was being honest, there was nothing more he wanted to do than sit there with her for hours and days and quite possibly even years-- however long it took them to properly get to know each other well enough to leave together for stargazing.

           But, he couldn’t just take a leave of absence for three years when Barbara needed him  _right then_  to help her hose down the mats.

           “I do, yeah, I do.” He nodded. “But, um.. I can’t. Working, you know.”

           “Oh, right. Okay.” She nodded back, and he thought she looked a little embarrassed that she’d asked.

           “But actually, I was going to ask you..” He started, not liking the little bit of shame that was poking in her eyes. She didn’t need to feel embarrassed-- he really  _did_  want to sit. And by sit, he of course meant date and love and hold so close he might squish her eyeballs out. “Would you want to, uh... would you…” His eyes fell to the ground. “Did you want a refill?”

           Her glittering eyes shaded themselves as she looked to her mug. “Oh, uh.. no, that’s okay. I’m about to leave anyway.” She nodded, not making eye contact as she began to gather her things. He knew she wasn’t really done studying, and he felt really dumb for making her uncomfortable when all he wanted to do just the opposite. But, as much as he hated it, his embarrassment and silly fear continued to dictate his words.

           “Oh, alright. Then, um.. I’ll.. see you later.” He mumbled as he backed away, his feet shuffling his body quickly into the back and out of her sight.

           A refill? Really? He slid a hand down his face in annoyance, fingers tugging at the skin around his eyes. “Oh my gosh, Harry..” he mumbled to himself, disappointed and totally aggravated. Could he honestly not just ask her out? Was it really that hard?

           He sighed and gripped one of the large rubber mats, yanking it from it’s place in the middle of the kitchen floor and dragging it towards the back door. It was so dumb of him to have chickened out-- because up until he’d been a totally dimwit about it, she’d actually appeared at least mildly interested. But, then, of course, he’d gone and mucked it all up-- missing his one opportunity to ask her out and making her feel awful and all that.

           He worked the nozzle in his hand, high-pressured water spurting out and drenching the mat in front of him. He normally didn’t mind the mundane tasks, but at that moment he didn’t like how it made him play his ridiculous mistake over and over again. He hoped he’d be able to recover from it on Tuesday-- maybe make a joke about it and light-heartedly apologize before  _really_  asking her out-- because, despite the recent stumbles with Bridgette, he felt his heart was finally ready. Ready to really put an end to that relationship, ready to move on, ready to love and be loved  _back_. He'd finally realized that Bridgette never had, and he couldn’t stand staring into the dark any longer. And with the thought of Diana, well... he could finally imagine the sun beginning to rise again. Maybe, just maybe, she could be his new day.

 


	14. I Want Pt. 2

           Zayn tugged the top drawer of his desk open to return his letter opener to it’s place, but paused when his eyes fell on the little box wedged in the corner. He slid the opener into its spot before brushing his fingers over the green felted square. His reaction to the sight had been the same all week-- first, a small smile easing onto his lips, then an excited nervousness pricking in his stomach. The day was getting closer and he couldn’t wait.

           With the drawer, he shoved his thoughts back into place and looked up from his desk. “Finished grading those papers?” he called to his intern, who was sat at a smaller desk against the classroom wall.

           Her head popped up and she began ruffling the papers. “Oh, um, not quite-- sorry. I just got a little bit distracted-- I, um..” she mumbled and tried to sort through what she’d been doing before her mind had drifted. Unbeknownst to her, Zayn bumped his thumbs together as he looked in her direction and considered her fluster. She’d seemed distracted all day, and he could tell something was bothering her. He wondered if maybe he’d given her too much to handle among her coursework from uni.

           He sat down on her desk and nonchalantly thumped a pencil on his hand.

           “I’m really sorry, I’ll get them done right now.” she rushed and glanced up at him.

           He shook his head in dismissal. “It’s alright, don’t worry about grading them today."

           She paused her scribbling and looked up again. “Are you sure? I can just stay a little later than usual and do it. It’s my fault for, uh.. getting distracted.”

           Zayn shook his head again, keeping his voice low. “No, no.. don’t worry about it.” He paused for a moment, his eyes drifting slowly from the floor to hers. “‘s everything okay, babe?” he asked carefully, but casually.

           She looked down to the papers scattered on her desk. “Umm.. yeah, I mean, yeah.” She shrugged, but her mumbles gave away her uneasiness.

           “You’ve been distracted all day.” Zayn raised his eyebrows at her, making her give a small smile in return for his. “Don’t lie to me.”

           She brightened just enough to chuckle a tiny laugh before sighing and fidgeting with the corners of the essay in front of her. “It’s really not a big deal, kind of dumb, really,” she shook her head.

           “Too much work from me? Or school?” Zayn muttered, trying to encourage her to open up. He wanted to help if he could.

           “No, no, that’s all fine. I mean, as fine as it can be this close to the end of the semester anyway.” She gave an ironic laugh, and he joined before she continued. “It’s really nothing, just, um.. just, like, dumb guy stuff.”

           “Dumb guy stuff?” he poked, and she glared playfully.

           “Well you  _asked_.” she wrinkled her nose. “And I’m really sorry, I won’t let it affect my work anymore.”

           Zayn chuckled and nodded. “It’s really fine. Relationships are tough.”

           Their voices lulled as she straightened the paper for the third time and Zayn looked up at the clock on the wall. Still fifteen minutes until Louis said he’d be done for the day and ready for drinks.

           “Do you want to talk about it?” Zayn suggested with a shrug. She sighed and looked up at him. “I am a dumb guy, after all.” he tipped a sad smile.

           She chewed her bottom lip as her mind sorted through the repercussions of her decision. “I don’t know. You might think I’m really dumb.”

           “We’ll since we’ve already established that I’m dumb, you’ll be in good company.” Zayn grinned again, but she glared. “Alright, alright. I promise not to think you’re dumb. Come on, babe, it’s okay.”

           She sighed one last time before conceding. “Well, long story short, there’s this guy that I met-- well,  _sort_  of met-- and I  _thought_  he had been sort of flirting with me, but then this whole awkward thing happened the other day and usually it would be whatever, I guess, but I don’t know why, I just really like him even though I don’t really know him.”

           Zayn nodded thoughtfully and she continued, her rambles becoming more intense as they spilled out. “I think I just like.. I really wanted him to ask me out but he didn’t feel that way, I guess, and it’s crazy because I don’t even know him but he just seems really nice and I don’t know, it’s not like me and I know it’s stupid, but it doesn’t even matter anymore because honestly I’m just too embarrassed to go back and see him. He’s way too gorgeous for me anyway.”

           Zayn laughed at her playful exasperation. “I highly doubt he’s way too gorgeous for you.”

           She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I just.. I don’t know what to do about it because, on the one hand, I think he’s too ridiculously adorable for his own good-- er… sorry.. he’s, um--” she stuttered, realizing her gushes in front of Zayn and clearly getting a little embarrassed. “He’s.. nice. And on the other hand, I’m just really embarrassed about what happened, so I’ll probably never go back ever again in my life ever. Ever.”

           “Go back where?”

           “The bakery where he works. I sort of met him because I usually go there regularly to study, but I’ve been too embarrassed to go back recently.”

           Zayn’s brows furrowed and he tilted his head. “Oh, you mean where I saw you the other day?”

           “Yeah, why?”

           “What does he look like?”

           “Tall, skinny, curly headed.” She responded, her face showing mild confusion.

           “Oh my--” he started before breaking into a chuckle. “You’re talking about  _Harry_.”

           “Yeah, his name is Har-- wait, do you know him?” She cocked her head and widened her eyes, her embarrassment growing. Zayn could tell and worked to calm her.

           “It’s fine, it’s fine-- Diana, don’t freak out.” He tried to quiet his chuckles. “It’s really fine, I’m not laughing at you.”

           She crossed her arms and sat back. “What.. why are you laughing then...” she asked with a quizzical eye. “I’ve just crushed on about your friend and you think I believe you that you’re not laughing at me.”

           “No, no, I’m really not.” Zayn raised his hands in defense. “It’s just.. you’ve got the completely wrong idea.”

           “Wrong idea?” She asked in concern. “About Harry?”

           “Yeah, well, sort of.” Zayn tried to explain, but her growing fear of Harry’s character made him shake his head. “No, I mean-- he is a great guy, don’t worry about that. It’s just-- you said you didn’t think he was really flirting or wanting to asking you out or whatever. Honestly, babe, that couldn’t be more wrong.” he finished before a few of his own giggles popped out. “He hasn’t been able to shut up all week about this girl he met-- concerned she’ll never come back to the bakery and that he’ll never get to apologize and stuff. I just didn’t realize he was talking about _you_.”

           “Apologize for what?” Diana asked eagerly.

           Zayn laughed. “Well, that’s the thing with Harry. He always feels like there’s something to apologize for. I guess he felt like he was rude to you or somethin’.”

           Diana appeared perhaps even more confused than before, but even then Zayn could see a moment of relief on her face. “Don’t avoid the bakery because of him, babe. He’ll be glad to see you.”

           Rapid knocking caused them to both turned their heads towards the other side of the classroom. Louis leaned in the doorway, rapping his knuckles against the wooden doorframe.

           “You ready to come tell me your big news or are you just going to keep flirting with your intern?” Louis winked at them, making Diana roll her eyes and Zayn hop off the desk.

           “Yeah, Lou, let me finish up here and I’ll be out in a minute.”

           Diana began packing up her things while Zayn went to log himself out of his school computer.

           “You’re going to go back, then, right?” he confirmed, peering over the top of the screen.

           She glanced back at him as she shoved her books into her bag. “You’re sure he’s not completely weirded out by me or anything? I felt really embarrassed.”

           “I’m _sure_. Trust me. He won’t shut up about it.” Zayn spoke, pulling the top drawer open again. He paused and looked again at the box, this time picking it up and turning it in his hand, pondering just exactly what it meant to be in possession of such a thing. Diana’s brief laughter made him snap back into reality and slide the box into his pocket.

           “If you’re sure..” She shrugged and followed him towards the door, his bugging eyes making her laugh.

           “For the love of all that is good in this world, please believe me. Completely weirded out is the _last_  thing Harry is by you.” His eyes twinkled as he let her through the door first and closed it behind them. “And for the love of my sanity,  _please_  go see him so he’ll stop bemoaning about it.” Their combined laughter rang down the empty hall before they parted ways.


	15. Forever Young

           Liam smiled as he raised the big mug to his lips, enjoying the warm scent of cinnamon in the air and the company of Rosie across from him.

           “You like it?” he asked, referencing her cherry turnover.

           “Delicious,” she nodded back and raised the piece she’d just torn off in show.

           He chuckled to himself and took a sip of his coffee. With other girls he may have been too distracted with his puppy love to take a moment to look out the window as he was, but with Rosie things just felt more serious. He liked the way she made it easy to treat her like a woman-- to respect her and want to be respected _by_  her. Not that he'd have been any other way, but it was nice to be with someone who seemed so level-headed and mature-- things he'd always been attributed with. On every date with her he'd been learning more and more how right he'd been about her eyes-- behind them was so much more than he'd imagined. Besides the fact that things just felt easy in a lovely grown-up sort of way. None of that exhausting drama he’d had with relationships in his younger years.

           “Have you been busy today?” she asked, clearly enjoying the bustle of students outside too. He quite liked that about her-- her mutual enjoyment of people watching. It was in things like those that he felt like they could really relate. They were both busy people, so it was nice to be able to just relax and take it easy when they were together.

           “Not really, no. I went in this morning to check up, but they haven’t called me in yet.” he nodded with a quirk of his eyebrow, which made her smile back. He’d had a remarkably slow day for being on call, which he was actually quite thankful for because he’d gotten to spend some good quality time with Niall, who’d finally opened up some about Bre. It had taken longer than Liam thought it would, and quite frankly that had concerned him. He hoped Niall heard his attempted words of wisdom: basically, it sucked, but he needed to move on.

           “It’s a cute place.” Rosie muttered from behind her coffee mug.

           “Yeah, for once Niall came through for me. Apparently his roommate works here.”

           “Harry, is it?”

           “Yeah, yeah. Harry.” Liam mumbled, his eyes still dazed out the window. Having already been close to campus, Rosie had agreed to meet him there since he might be called off at any moment. He appreciated her understanding of his strange schedule and that she still wanted to see him even though he might be whisked away after five minutes. So far so good, though.

           “How’s your day been?” he asked, looking over at her.

           “Fine.” she nodded. “Just able to get things done around the house since I was off today. Things add up quickly.”

           Liam gave a playfully sympathetic smile. “Yeah.”

           “I actually found a new running trail this morning after I--” she stopped suddenly, and Liam raised his eyebrows in question when she looked away quickly, avoiding his eyes. “I was just thinking maybe we should try it out together sometime.” she gave a quirking smile.

           “Oh.” he nodded slowly. “Yeah, sure, that’d be fun.” He probably wouldn’t have thought about her odd change of sentence again, except after that she’d seemed a little uneasy. It was weird, he thought, but he figured maybe she was just tired. He was too.

           Their conversation flowed fairly easily, despite her tension. Maybe it wasn’t the most lively discussion, but he didn’t mind. Simply being together was enough for him, especially for such a slow afternoon. He couldn’t help but notice, though, that the longer they talked, the more stiff she seemed, like with every passing minute she became more aware of a bomb that was ticking. Finally, he decided he should say something.

           “Are you alright?” he asked, sliding a hand towards her. Her eyes flicked fear at first, but settled into a sad appreciation. She met his hand with hers and sighed.

           “Actually... “ she faltered, and Liam squeezed her fingers.

           “It’s alright.” he smiled in encouragement, and she gave a small smile back.

           “There’s just something I think we need to talk about.” she finally met his eyes, suddenly determined and serious, like maybe if she let herself be unsure anymore it might never come out.

           “Uh, sure. Anything.” Liam nodded, a little surprised and a little worried. Sure, they’d had good conversation and had gotten to know each other fairly well over the last few weeks, but this seemed different. He wasn’t sure where the conversation was going and he was a little concerned, but on the other hand, well… he  _did_  feel like she could tell him anything, and vice versa. He wanted her to feel safe, and he knew if their relationship was going to progress it had to be open. And though he hadn’t been sure before, in that moment, he found himself more sure than ever, no matter what it was that she wanted to talk about: he  _did_  want it to progress. But getting around those clouded eyes would make it difficult. Maybe this was the first sign of the sky clearing…

           “I, um.. I haven’t been entirely forthright with you.” she spoke slowly, eyes drifting out the window again. Liam waited, and worked to keep his breathing calm, though his body wanted to do just the opposite. He was scared if he showed any fear on the outside that she might spook, might emotionally bolt like a wild mare. But then her eyes had met his again, and he saw her asking  _him_  not to do just the same.

           “Uh,” she swallowed, and he didn’t like the hurt in her eyes as they fell to the table. “I..” she gave a sigh that felt heavier on his shoulders than his firefighting gear ever had.

           But, just when she’d opened her mouth to speak again, his beeper had gone off. An aggressively whispered word of profanity slipped out of his mouth as he took his hand from hers and reached for his pocket.

           “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” he mumbled as the little green screen flashed at him.

           “It’s alright.” she nodded, surprisingly understanding.

           “I’m really sorry, I have to go check this out. It’s just right around the corner-- I’ll call you when I find out more. Not sure how long it’ll take. Why don’t you--” his eyes drifted towards the bakery counter as he rambled quickly and stood. “Harry!” he called over the tables. Harry’s shaggy head turned to his name, and when he saw Liam, he gave a friendly wave and smiled, already moving to make his way from behind the counter. Liam turned back to Rosie with the most apologetic look he’d ever had. “I’m really sorry-- I’ll make this as quick as possible.”

           “Sure, sure… it’s fine.” she tried to encourage, but he could tell she was a little flustered. Harry appeared beside them.

           “Harry, can you make sure she gets a refill and another turnover? I’ll pay when I get back.”

           Harry seemed to see the wildness in Liam’s eyes and nodded. “Sure.”

           “Thanks, mate.” Liam put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I’ll be back.” He nodded to Rosie before rushing out the door.

           Rosie watched him trot off, already pulling his phone to his ear to receive orders from his unit. She looked up at Harry, who stood there, awkwardly shifting his eyes and opening his mouth to speak like it was his duty for Liam.

           “Um… hi.”

 

           Liam arrived at the scene to find his buddies already making quick work of the wreckage from the multi-car pile up. Usually he’d have gone to the station first, but since it was so close, they’d told him to meet them there. He called out to the incident commander to notify him of his presence, and he received orders to assess the other cars and their passengers that had received less damage-- the ones that had crunched bumpers and twisted tailgates in an attempt to avoid the bigger mess ahead. Liam trotted over to the first car, one that had appeared to be shoved off the road by another ramming into its side. The front stooped into the ditch, so he had to slide down the muddy bank to peer inside.

           “Hello miss, my name is Liam, are you alright?” he asked through the open window as he assessed the crunched metal.

           “Yes, yes, I’m alright,” the woman nodded before looking up at him. “Just a little shaken, I think.”

           Liam nodded, his mind acknowledging that her door was probably stuck. “Have you had trouble getting ou--” he started, but when he finally made eye contact he stopped. “... Tiffany?”

           Her face showed surprise that he knew her name. “Uh, yes, wow. Talk about great service.” she tried to laugh, though he could tell she was still flustered. “Wait.. Liam… are you the firefighter that saved me from the apartment fire?”

           He smiled, “Looks like I’ll be saving you again. You should be more careful.” He hoped his joking made her feel more at ease.

           “Apparently.” she agreed, and he wasn’t sure if it was her recent collision or the memory of that night that made a stoic fear wash across her face.

           Liam firmly gripped the door through the open window. “Well, let’s get you out of here. Is your door unlocked?” As much as he wanted to continue the conversation and ask her how she was doing-- if she was okay, if she wanted to talk about it, if she wished not to see him-- he knew there was still a line of cars that needed assistance. His first priority was safety, and not just hers.

           “Yes-- yes it is.” she nodded, though Liam was concentrated on working the handle. He tugged the door backwards a few times to test the crunched, resisting metal. Deciding it was loose enough to work free with just his arms, he braced himself and yanked. His muscles flexed in force as the metal screeched against itself, the door slowly peeling free. He took her arm and helped her find her footing on the slippery slope.

           “You got it?” he asked before letting her arm down.

           “Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you.” she nodded and waved her hand to let him know he could go help the others. Liam smiled at her before crawling back up the small hill.

           After the situation was under control, the injured had been sent off with the ambulances, and the jumbled mess of cars was being loaded onto tow trucks, Liam made his way back over to Tiffany.

           “You’re sure you're alright?” he asked with a tired, playful smile, a hand rubbing his sore neck. Fire fighting had a way of making him feel much older than he really was, and he didn’t like it. He especially noticed after his last “meeting” with Tiffany that he hadn’t felt quite the same-- the physicality of the job was demanding and his body was taking longer to bounce back than he liked.

           She smiled back. “For now, yes. But you never know what might happen in a few weeks.”

           He laughed at her ease of joke even after a potentially scaring experience. “Well it’s good to see you’re doing well. You’re pretty lucky.”

           “To have had you save me both times? I think you’re right.” She chuckled.

           Liam shared a short laugh with her. “Well I  _meant_  lucky to be alright after the fire. That was…” he trailed, not wanting to make her upset. He knew experiences like that were traumatic, and he didn’t want to cause her upsetting memories.

           “I could’ve died. I know.” she nodded, careful in her words and the sad smile that stretched her lips. “Really, thank you so much.”

           He nodded back, happy that she appeared to be working through it well. “Of course.”

           “You never know, next time I might need mouth-to-mouth. You trained for that?” she played, trying to keep the conversation light. Liam laughed. Her gentle flirtations were surprisingly comfortable in a very non-threatening way. He wondered if it was her easy-going personality that he was just beginning to see, or if it was the same weird feeling he’d had about her since that moment outside the burning complex.

           “You know, not to brag, but mouth-to-mouth is one of my better skills.” he winked, somehow knowing he was safe to play. She laughed and moved to give him a friendly hug.

           “Really, thank you so much.” she whispered in his ear before pulling away. “Keep up the good work. Saving people’s lives and stuff.”

           He nodded. “I will. In all the best ways, I hope I don’t see you again.”

           “At least not like this.” she laughed. “Bye, Liam.”

 

           Liam jogged down the steps of the fire station and shoved his hand in his pocket, searching for his keys. “Rosie? Hi-- I’m so sorry about today. I had no idea I would be tied up for so long.” He held the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he worked to get his effects into the car and slide in. Her answer had made him smile-- how was it that she was so understanding?  _It’s really fine. I knew you were on call. I was fine to wait._  He let the words seep way down into his soul. They felt good, even if it was a passing comment. Though it was late by the time he’d finally been able to leave the station, she insisted on seeing him.

           “Are you sure?” He asked as he looked over his shoulder to back out of the car park.

           “Yes, I’d really like to finish our talk from earlier if that’s okay.”

           “Of course, yeah.” Liam immediately agreed, having secretly hoped all day that she’d be up for it. He knew the curiosity would have gnawed intolerably at him all weekend if she hadn’t been.

           “Want to meet at the park off of Fifth?” she suggested, and he smiled at the thought of an evening walk.

           “That sounds delightful.”

 

           “The rest of your day been well?” he asked, gently kissing her cheek in a friendly greeting. They hadn’t been together long enough for the kind of greeting he  _wanted_  to give her, but he liked that she’d felt comfortable enough for her fingers to catch his as they fell into step beside each other.

           “Fine, yeah. How was yours? Save lots of lives?” she simpered up at him.

           “Just fifty or so.” his eyes twinkled. It felt good that she saw him that way, and it felt even better that they could joke about it.

           They walked in silence for a moment, enjoying the cool air of dusk and how the last rays of sun flicked off the small lake they were circling. Liam had a hard time not stealing glances at her-- the tired look in her eyes made him twinge sadness, but at the same time he didn’t think they could look any more enticing. Why was it that her eyes were just so beautiful? Maybe it was the way her hair framed them, the way she fit perfectly beside him, the way her hand felt in his. Whatever it was, it was distracting him away from his curiosity, and soon enough he’d all but forgotten their original purpose for being there. Honestly all he wanted to do was sit her down on one of the splintered benches dotting the walkway and blub on about how hopelessly intrigued he was by her and just how beautiful he thought she was. Because, yeah, he’d mentioned it politely, but he hadn’t outright just _said_  it yet, and man, in that moment he couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do more.

           He paused in his step and looked at her, her body turning to his in question. She seemed to sense the warmth of his emotions because she smiled. He carefully moved closer, and when her clouded eyes seemed to gain a shine he hadn’t seen before, he carefully slid his arms around her middle, extending one of her arms with his.

           “Want to dance?” He chuckled, knowing his cheesy, youthful advances.

           “Sure.” she chuckled, clearly enjoying feeling like giddy kids again. Their eyes drifted to the sky as they swayed to unheard music and the stars began popping out from behind shaded skies. Maybe it was early in the relationship, but there, holding her close and thinking about how easy the day felt with her-- work and all-- he smiled. Maybe it’d taken him a while to find love, but he thought that with her maybe all the waiting and unfortunate relationships had been worth it. She made him feel just like he had when he was just learning what love was, and he thought she just might make him feel like that for the rest of his life if she’d stick around, like some kind of time capsule that’d keep him young forever.

           When he looked back down at her, she gave him a small smile. He felt the timing was right, so he slowly stooped to brush his lips against hers. At first he wasn’t sure if the look in eyes was fear or excitement, but when he felt her lips press back his heart, though unnaturally calm, felt more bolstered than it had in a long time. His eyes opened to find her smiling back, but again her eyes showed something else.

           “Was that alright?” he asked in concern.

           “It was fine-- great.” she nodded, trying to put his worried brows back in their rightful place. “I just.. I need to finish what I was saying from before.”

           “Oh.” Liam eased back, sorry that he’d shaded their first kiss with her concern.

           “It’s really fine.” she squeezed his arms, clearly sensing his unspoken apology. “I just feel like it’s not fair for me to..” she trailed.

           He tried to smile an encouragement, but his confusion jumbled his expression.

           She sighed. “Liam, I really,  _really_  like you. I appreciate the way you treat me and the way you’re intentional with me. I enjoy spending time with you-- how easy it is to just do life together…”

           “You’re not breaking up with me, are you..” Liam tried to laugh, hoping his jokes would cover up the jolt of fear stretching up his stomach. Honestly, though he didn’t have any idea what she was going to say, the look in her eyes made him fear much worse than her breaking up with him. But his heart still hoped that whatever it was wasn’t a big deal at all.

           “No no, of course not. Just, before we go on in this, I think you should know.” she resolved, her fingers gripping his arms. He watched her expectantly, swallowing hard when she finally met his eyes again.

           “Liam, I, um.. I have a child.”


	16. Na Na Na

           It didn’t seem so long ago that he’d snuck in the back door to the kitchen, catching her stealing a lick of the icing covered cake squares.

           "I saw that.” he’d surprised her with an eyebrow raise.

           “Louis!” she’d hisses, though a smile bounced on her face as he’d rushed toward her. “What are you doing here?”

           “I was just in the neighborhood.” he winked, his hands already reaching for her face.

           “You were not!” she whispered with a giggle as he pulled her lips to his. Faint chatter had drifted in from the dining room, his soon-to-be wife’s bridal shower just beginning. Louis had known he shouldn’t have been there, but knowing he shouldn’t be doing something rarely stopped him.

           “Quiet now, they’ll hear you.” he’d whispered back as his eyes squinted with a laugh.

           “You have to _leave_.” she protested, though her lips betrayed her and kissed him back. He loved that she was just as desperate as he.

           “Do I though?” he’d played, not wanting to leave her side for one second, much less an entire afternoon.

           “Are you prepared to shmooze with my great aunts and sip mimosas for the next three hours? I may have some tights you could borrow…” she had sassed, and it made Louis’ nose crinkle.

           “Ew.” he laughed quietly and pressed to her lips again. He’d had no problem leaving her to experience  _that_  by herself.

           “Darling?” an older woman’s voice called over the clip-clop of heels. Louis’ eyes had popped as he tried not to giggle, and his bride covered his mouth with her hand, eyeing him harshly. “Darling, are you coming?”

           “Uh-- yes! Yes, I’m coming!” she’d called back to the aged voice as she’d shoved Louis towards the back door.

           “Ow!” he’d objected to her prodding, but she’d only hushed him and pushed harder.

           “Go-- go!” she’d giggled as he’d slid out the door and turned for one last kiss.

           “I’ll see you later, then?” he’d grinned, so close to her face he could feel her breath on his nose.

           “Yes, now GO.” she’d given a girlish giggle and shoved his chest back. Staggering backwards into the yard that day he’d just  _known_. She was all he wanted, and all he’d ever want.

           Louis stared blankly at the counter beneath him, his thumb absentmindedly catching the condensation on the outside of the bottle set in front of him. A football game played on the TV above, but for once in his life he didn’t care. Another swig, another empty sigh.

 _All he’d ever want._  Was it the phrase or the beer that was leaving a bitter taste in his mouth? He thought maybe both. For the past few months he’d been convinced his younger self had been dead wrong. She wasn’t what he’d wanted; it was the _idea_  of her that he’d wanted. That’s why he’d finally put his foot down and called the whole thing off.

           Louis grimaced as he gripped the bottle tighter, disgusted at himself for what he was feeling. No, he couldn’t still love her, not after everything she’d done. Not after the arguments, not after the bickering, not after she'd humiliating him in front of his own son. He’d sort of known his desperate attempts on Charlie’s birthday would backfire, and yet still he crawled back. How could she-- how could--

           His thoughts were jarred by a banging on the jukebox down the bar. He heard the bartender grunt at the old box as the music righted itself and played on. Louis rolled his tongue along his teeth, regretting his decision to come to the familiar spot. It wasn’t so long ago that he’d done his own time of beating on the old machine, willing her least favorite song to blare out just so he could see the annoyed crinkle of her nose. It had been all fun and games then, a pleasure to see her distaste and a kick to watch her whine in protest. Then she’d have giggled, pressing her forehead into his chest and chiding him for playing the song yet again when he  _knew_  she hated it, her protests rooted in affection.  _Then_  he’d have laughed and muffled her complaints with a kiss, _then_  his playful teasing and her silly annoyance would have made them both go a bit crazy for each other. But  _now_ …

           Louis sighed and brought the bottle to his lips again. Now there was no fun in her disapproval. It felt like everything had changed in an instant-- one minute full of love and laughter and passion, the next holding only anger, hurt, and rejection. Sometimes he felt they’d gone from “yes” to “no” so fast there had never been a “maybe.”

           His teeth gritted together as his thoughts flipped back again. The hurt in his heart-- the pain, the jealousy, the longing-- it overwhelmed him. His chest felt tight, his eyes slammed shut, his hand curled into a fist. Had it really been that quick? Surely there must have been warning signs. He should have seen the way she was long before, because, well, she had been that way before, hadn’t she…

           Louis’ eyes flicked open and he glared hard in front of him. Yes-- yes, she  _had_  been. Now that he was thinking clearly he remembered. Even when they were dating she’d pulled him back and forth and disregarded him without a second thought, always wanting to go out and party until he suggested it. And then she’d do that thing that she always did-- pretending to feel sick or too tired or “just a little poorly.”  _Just a little poorly._  How many times had he heard that phrase? Too many. Far too many. He’d always known it was just because she was stubborn, didn’t like his friends, didn’t ever want to put herself out there for him when he felt like having a good time. He’d just been too enamored at the time to see it, that was all. But now he could see it, now he could see her for what she really was.

           His fist slammed on the counter, anger rising. The bartender assumed his gesture was for another beer and turned towards him.

           “You sure, mate? You’ve already had six.” he nodded gruffly.

           “Another.” Louis muttered through clenched teeth, his gaze still fixed ahead in fury. He was an idiot, he was a complete and utter idiot. Somehow his heart still wanted to love her, despite what he’d finally come to realize. But he wouldn’t let himself-- he couldn’t. No more of this back and forth, no more loving one minute and hating the next, no more of her seducing him with her deceiving charm.

           Louis grabbed the bottle and quickly chugged half the bubbling liquid. If she wanted separate lives, separate loves, separate joys and heartaches and memories with Charlie, then fine by him. He could think of nothing better than more memories with her.

           No no-- nothing worse. “ _Nothing worse_ ,” he whispered like a curse, angry at his own heart, and took the bottle in his sweaty palm. His breathing became uneven as his heart rate increased, rage growing.

           Then he noticed a familiar sound coming from down the bar. It was her song. The one she hated, the one he loved to play over and over again to her annoyance, the one they’d played even within the walls of their own bedroom. No, no-- not the song. It was too much. Shooting off the stool he staggered, fist raising his bottle and swinging as hard as his alcohol inhibited limbs would let him. The glass just missed the ear of the guy wrestling the machine and slammed into the case. Shattered pieces of brown flew in all directions, beer fizzing as it washed over the jukebox.

           “Louis!” the bartender yelled, quickly moving from behind the counter. “Louis, it’d be best if you left now, mate,” he spoke, grabbing his arm.

           “I know.. I know!” Louis growled and pulled his arm out of his friend’s hold. “I’m going.”

           “You want me to call you a cab?” the bartender asked, obviously concerned. 

           “I’ll be fine.” Louis grumbled, his words slurring in anger and inebriation. At that moment, he honestly didn’t care if he made it home or not. In fact, he didn’t have it in himself to care about  _anything_ , really, because the only thing he could feel was anger. Anger, revenge, and a fierce determination. Because if she could be happy without him, he could be happy without  _her_. He could be, and he would be.


	17. I Should've Kissed You

           “What a bunch of gobshites.” Niall muttered under his breath, pulling his mug of Guinness closer. The guy beside him chuckled at his disapproval of the noisy crowd.

           “Not much of a footie fan, then?” he asked with a sly smile.

           “Not today.” Niall shook his head and looked down into the brown liquid before pulling it to his lips.

           “Usually?”

           “The Rams.” Niall gave a brief nod.

           “Ah, Derby County. Rovers, myself. But surely nothing can be so bad to kill the spirits of a loyal football fan?”

           “You don’t seem to be in on the party either.” Niall gave him an annoyed side glance.

           “Well you’ve caught me there, haven’t ya.” the man nodded in admission, sipping his own drink. “Woman trouble, then?”

           Niall glanced at him again, wondering if he was usually this chatty or just tipsy. “Uh. Yeah, you could say. You?”

           His talky friend gave a laugh that sent a few chills running down Niall’s spine. “No, no.” he shook his head with a curling smile. “Not any more.”

           “Not any more? What’d you do, kill her?” Niall sarcastically prodded, not sure if he was feeling annoyed or just depressed. He watched as his company looked at him with a face full of sass and puffed his chest up just a bit.

           “So testy!” the visitor gave another angled laugh and sipped his drink again. “What’s got you so down, mate?” he nodded up once, looking at Niall out the side of his eyes.

           Niall sighed, pondering whether or not he wanted to talk about it. On the one hand he thought it’d make it worse, on the other he thought maybe it’d be better. Maybe the fact that it was with a stranger was good-- like he could let it out and then leave it there. He swiveled a look at the man again. “Girlfriend broke up with me. Can’t seem to get over it.’

           “Ah.” he nodded. “Are we talking ‘just broken up and need a drink to get it out of the system’ or ‘this was weeks ago and I’m still drowning in self pity?’”

           “Uh..” Niall hesitated. He didn’t really like how the guy had phrased it, but he supposed he was in the latter group. “The second, I guess.”

           He nodded, looking half sorry for Niall and half amused.

           “You think it’s funny?” Niall asked grumpily, his defenses already raised sheerly due to his broken heart.

           “No, no.” the guy shook his head. “I feel ya. I feel ya. Can’t sleep, can’t stop thinking about her, can’t will yourself to move on ‘cause she was ‘the one’?” he asked, staring into his own beer. His tone was confusing-- mocking in its rises and falls, but somehow not as if to offend Niall. _Who else, then?_ he wondered.

           Niall looked at him inquisitively though he received no glance back. This stranger seemed to understand him better with one question than anyone else he knew did with entire conversations about Bre. Still, he was unsure about him. “Yeah, exactly that. You must have just gone through a break up too?”

           “More or less. I’m over it though.” the man nodded, still focusing on his drink.

           Niall wasn’t so convinced based on the telling twitch in the guy’s face, but he nodded and looked down to his own drink. “I just can’t get her out of my head. She’s with another guy now and I just...”

           “It’s confusing because you want to hate her, but you can’t help but still love her.”

           “Yeah.” Niall nodded, furrowing his brows. This gruff stranger had more insight than he’d originally thought. “I want to know what she’s thinking, why it happened, how she feels about me. I.. I can’t… there was this night that we were out-- just before she dumped me-- dancing and drinking and… I dunno, mate, the way she looked at me, I just thought it was all perfect. I thought it was alright, you know? I should have never let her out of my arms that night. And I don’t know why, but I just keep thinking that if I had just taken her and kissed her so hard she’d forgotten about the other guy, we’d still be together. We’d still be--”

           “Wouldn’t have worked. Never works.” he interrupted Niall.

           Niall clenched his jaw, annoyed at how right he knew the man was. “You don’t think love can mend things?”

           The man smiled dryly again. “That’s not what love is, mate.”

           “What is love, then?” Niall asked, his emotions constantly fluctuating between curiosity and annoyance. The man seemed to know what he was talking about, but that didn’t make his brash sass any less frustrating to Niall’s already sensitive soul.

           “You know, I thought I had a good answer for that at one point in my life, but… life has a way of making you feel stupid, doesn’t it?”

           “What does that even mean?”

           “Sometimes I don’t know if I believe in _love_ anymore.” he almost spit the word. “Seems like something Hollywood made up. Romance, true love, picture-perfect endings. Where does it all end up, anyway? Broken hearts, that’s where.”

           “For calling me out on what’s got me down, you seem pretty cynical.” Niall glared.

           The man chuckled to himself. “I do have love in my life, just not sappy romance. Not with some fussy woman who won’t let me off my leash. Now _fun_ ,” he sneered. “Fun is something I do love to have, and quite a lot of it. I’d all but forgotten how much fun being single is.”

           “So you’re saying ‘love’ is really just ‘fun,’ then?” Niall raised his eyebrows.

           “Oh no no. I love my son. That’s where my love is. But my fun-- fun is with the ladies.” he grinned and nodded towards a few scantily clad women leaning against a pool table.

           Niall was a bit confused at the guy’s reasoning, but he couldn’t deny that it felt a little compelling.

           “You’ve just got to let the idea of ‘the perfect one’ go. She wasn’t it, none of ‘em are. ‘s not worth your time, mate.” the stranger sipped his drink again.

           “Just let go?”

           “Let go and let loose. Trust me.” he grinned and slid off his bar stool. “Louis.” he held out his hand in a long overdue introduction.

           “Niall.” Niall replied and shook his stretched palm.

           “Now are you gonna come chat up these ladies with me or not?” Louis’ eyes sparkled mischievously. Honestly, Niall wasn’t sure if it was a good idea or a bad one, but he knew he couldn’t continue on the way he was. And this Louis guy seemed to have gotten over his break up better than he had, so what was there to lose? Maybe he was right, maybe he just needed to let go and let loose, live a little, have a little _fun_ …

 

 


End file.
